The Things She Gives You
by momoxtoshiro
Summary: She's the only person who calls you by name, the only one who is powerful enough to alter the fate of an entire nation, and the only one you'd lie down your life for, should she ever ask. (Collection of Finetta stories, please read author's notes for info!).
1. The Things She Gives You

**A/N: _I requested this category on 3 weeks ago and they only just got to making it now. So all the fics for Izetta I've written thus far are going to be put into this story as separate chapters._**

 **Written immediately after I watched episode 2. It just took a few weeks to upload here since I had to request the category. But also please understand I have very little info/details to go off of as of right now, since the show has only just started. Most of the backstory I create is rough and personal input/assumptions.**

 **Recaps a lot of the events of the episode from Izetta's perspective, but all that leads up to some new/original content.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

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The Things She Gives You

She makes you feel so many things.

Things you'd never imagined possible before. Things you'd never imagined someone like you would ever be _allowed_ to feel.

Ever since you can remember, you've been wandering, lost, uncertain.

No one ever accepts you. No one ever smiles at you. No one ever wants you.

All the people who ever did those things are gone, and in your heart of hearts, you know they're never coming back, no matter how hard you pray, no matter what kind of magics you might dream to use.

For the longest time, you felt cold, hollow, meaningless. Ever since your grandmother's passing, nothing has ever felt right, and up until then, things had hardly felt right to begin with.

You'd been so alone, and you'd always thought it was meant to be that way.

This was your fate, the fate of one with your forbidden abilities and cursed blood.

This was the fate of a witch.

You'd wandered for so long, jolting and hiding at the first indication of another living thing, fearing for your own life.

Because you knew nowhere was safe. Nowhere was ever safe.

Every other time you'd turn around, there were bombs falling somewhere, there were fires raging, people screaming, blood running.

For the longest time, you were at the midst of it. And for the longest time, you'd feared you'd never be able to escape it.

But then you met her, and she was your escape.

The first time you'd laid eyes upon her, you'd felt things you'd never felt before.

She'd startled you initially, because what business did such a lovely young girl have being all the way out in the middle of the forest, attended only by the company of an un-intimidating dog?

Her girlish clothing and well-groomed hair suggested to you right away that she wasn't of the same unfortunate background as you. Her skin was pale and flawless, her eyes bright and clever, her hair luscious and at a length that suggested she could care for it well.

Which was why you'd thought her to be a princess long before you knew the truth in your guess.

While she interested you, she also terrified you.

Because you knew those kinds of people tended to seek out your kind only to take advantage of them.

That was why the first thing you'd ever felt _for_ her was fear.

Fear that she might prosecute you as so many others had done before.

Fear that she might judge you for your uncanny abilities.

Fear that she might hurt you, too.

But that fear didn't last long at all.

Because as soon as you'd slipped off the handle of your broom, she was right there beneath you, balancing precariously on the edge of a rocking boat, arms outstretched and fully prepared to soften your fall.

That was the first time she touched you. And though it ended up with the both of you sopping wet and ragged, it was a precious moment neither of you would soon forget.

At that point, you were still scared of her, anticipating the ridicule that years of persecution had hammered into your skull, making you believe there was no other possible response she could have.

But she proved you wrong a second time when she laughed, when her lilac eyes shimmered like sunshine on the river, when she told you she wasn't scared of you.

And she'd said you looked pretty.

That was when she made you feel confused.

How could a girl like this take interest in witches, enough to recount their tainted history with a genuine smile on her lips? How could a princess of such incomparable beauty ever think to call _you_ of all creatures pretty?

But as you listened to her talk, that energetic, innocent voice that would soon echo throughout every part of your soul, that confusion turned into something else.

Hope.

The hope that maybe she would be different from all the rest.

And in time, you'd see that she would be.

In the warm, sunny, springtime afternoons, she'd run beside you through the green meadows and flower fields as you practiced riding your broomstick, never once frightened by your magics. She'd keep a hand on your back, supporting you all the while, praising your progress and commending your mishaps before encouraging you to continue.

She'd laugh, and sometimes it would distract you to the point that you'd lose your concentration, enough to slip right off the handle and into her arms again.

Even when you started to pick up skill and speed in your flight, she'd run along beside you until her cheeks were florid and pink, applauding you to no end and breathlessly requesting that someday she might join you.

In the cool, autumn evenings, when the sky was painted gold like a regal canvas, she'd hold your hand and walk alongside you down by the riverside. The water would reflect the colors of the season as your bare feet splashed lightly beside hers, your heels rolling over the smooth pebbles as you'd walk, laugh, and tell each other about your dreams.

During those times, you'd tended to listen to her aspirations more than talk about your own, but that never stopped her from inquiring anyway. That was just one of the many ways she showed you she cared.

And in the crisp, winter nights, she'd dance around in the dusty, abandoned barn with you, despite the fact that you'd told her a million times this was no place for a princess.

But she'd just laugh and assure you it was fine, because she wanted to be here with you no matter what.

And you'd cast your magics for her, and her alone, filling the thick, cold air with dazzling green lights, like a barrage of fireflies to guide the way for your dance. The rusted buckets, broken brooms, and other objects danced with you as you twirled in merry circles, giggling the nights away beneath a cloak of innocence and friendship, the likes of which neither of you had ever known before.

And somewhere along the lines, you realized you were feeling so many new things you'd never felt before.

You were excited, blissful, happy. The sorrowful words of your grandmother's prophecy, that your powers would only bring suffering to those around you, felt like a distant dream.

The princess made you believe otherwise.

She made you feel undeniably important. Life had never felt so amazing before, in all the years you'd known it. One moment with her meant more to you than a year without her, a fact you'd regrettably come to know firsthand soon enough.

Because even though you knew she would always be on your side, you knew the rest of the world wasn't.

...

That was what scared you the most.

When the people started coming after you, with blades and fire and pitchforks, shouting every horrible curse you'd never known existed.

But you weren't scared for your own sake anymore. You were scared for hers.

And for good reason.

Because, no matter how many times you'd screamed at her to run away and leave you, she never did. And you'd known that she wouldn't, which had made the act of begging all the more difficult.

You'd watched her, arms thrown out to her sides to cover you, shielding you with her own body as blood pooled at her right hip. But she never faltered, even in spite of that pain, pain you knew must have been agonizing to such a petite young girl.

That was when you realized you loved her. You loved her, cared for her _so_ much, like you'd never cared for anything else before. And that love was matched only by the horror that came along with seeing her hurt because of you.

But that too, was a curse you would have to relive.

...

From the second you awoke, she was all you could see.

She filled your vision and your senses, standing in front of you, blocking you from harm's way, just like she had so many years ago. Her voice, her appearance, her presence. None of them had changed a bit.

The sense of conviction that shot through you then was strong enough to break you from your capsuled prison, stirring your dormant magics to the boiling point.

And the next thing you know, you're in the air, howling winds whipping your face a million miles an hour, the world a blurring swirl of blues and greens around you.

It's all you can do to grab the nearest gun you can touch and bring it under your command, mounting it as skillfully as any soldier mounts a companion horse into battle. It heeds your will as you tear off after your falling princess, helpless and battered.

It is your turn to repay the favor done unto you so many years ago.

This time, it is you who catches her.

It starts with a shout of her name and a desperate grasp of your fumbling fingertips. The spark of recognition in her glazed eyes is enough to make your heart soar, that she remembers you after all this time.

Gently yet firmly, you pull her in, maneuvering as carefully as possible given the circumstances, to keep her secure in your lap and cling to her, as though for dear life.

It very well may be just that.

In that instance, it is relief. The utmost, most poignant joy of having her back in your arms where she belonged.

You know it is selfish, because all that being with you has ever done for her is bring her pain.

But you just couldn't help it. You need her, and somewhere deep inside, you want to believe she needs you, too.

For the first time in what feels like ages - and what _could've_ been that long, for all you know - you can hear her voice clearly, feel her hands caressing the back of your head, holding you as though you are the most precious thing in the world.

That is how she makes you feel now.

Precious. Needed. Loved.

You shed a few tears for those emotions, for those feelings that only she can evoke.

But the moment of reverie doesn't last. You are still being pursued, hunted by the enemies who outnumber you in persons and in supplies.

But the colossal planes and blasting missiles assaulting the air around you don't concern you nearly as much as the blood you soon find on your palm does.

The sight of her blood had always evoked something within you. A subtle rage, a fiery conviction, an unmatched desire to protect her. Just as she had protected you so many years ago. You want to repay the favor, although you know nothing could ever be worth the precious elixir in her veins.

The recognition of those feelings now proves it is _her_ blood on your hands, and you know it was once again shed for someone else's sake. She'd always had a tendency to put her life on the line for those she cared about. Even though her life was far more important than the lives of most others, she'd never believed as much.

You knew her well enough to be familiar with her philosophy. She believed that her life was worth as "little" as the world said the lives of her citizens were worth in comparison to her own, and that their lives were worth just as "much" as hers was.

That manner of thinking of hers had caused a lot of her own blood to be spilled, but she never seemed to mind that much so long as others were spared in the process.

Still, it worries you as you hold tightly to her now, desperately trying to weave out of the paths of the deadly bullets being fired toward you.

You can't let it end like this.

Not after all you've been through, after all she's sacrificed for her country.

Not after you've only just gotten her back.

She's taught you so much: loyalty, devotion, understanding, hope...

You want to learn more from her.

So the defiance kicks in, the overpowering urge to protect that which is most precious to you. And you defy your grandmother's wishes yet again, and call upon your spells, for the sake of getting your princess out of here alive.

The planes crash one by one, flames pluming along the frozen mountainsides.

As you fly, you never loosen your grip on her – not for a second.

In frightening contrast, you can gradually feel her grip becoming weaker. When she speaks to you, her voice is thin and breathless, though it proves she isn't any less determined to get out alive than you are.

But it is all she can manage to pull that trigger and send you both spiraling out of the line of fire, down, down through the evergreen treetops and out of sight.

You call out for her, over and over again, but she doesn't respond anymore.

You do all you can to make the landing as soft and painless as possible, dropping your mount as soon as your feet touch solid ground. You clutch her close as you fall to your knees in the snow, drawing her in as you cry out for her again and again.

In dire contrast to the frigid ground beneath you, her body is unnaturally warm, and the blood still oozing from her arm is even warmer.

That is when you feel panic, something you realize you've never felt for yourself.

Only for her.

You press a hand over her forehead to find her skin hot, and you can both see and feel the shallow, white puffs of her breath.

You hate to put her perfect form down on that dirty ground, but it's necessary for you to tear the ends of your dress off. Carefully, you slide the large trench coat off her shoulders, revealing the gorgeous lavender gown she adorns. You've always loved that color on her, but right now you can't admire it; it reminds you of her eyes, which aren't open for you to see.

You roll up her right sleeve to reveal the wound. Crimson has been pouring out for a while already, covering her arm and fingers as well as your own. You wrap it quickly and tie it tight, with fervor, begging it to stop leaking her precious lifeblood.

She's always been so strong. You couldn't bear to see her like this – not again.

Fighting back tears, you whisper her name again, along with a promise to get her help swiftly. You won't allow yourself to shed those tears, though, because you know they'll only get in the way of your goal.

After much delicate movement, you drape the long coat over her, then manage to get her onto your back. Once you've finished tying the sleeves around your neck to keep her secure, you reach back to support her legs before standing.

She's always been slight of frame, but you can discern that the years of living out her stressful role in a position of high political importance has taken its toll on her.

For a moment, you are still, just to get a sense of her condition. You can hear her breathing feebly, her breath fanning meekly against the side of your neck. Her heart thumps quickly against your back, at such a heightened speed and force that it implies how dangerously her body is straining.

You swallow back another whimper and beg her to hold on, promise to help her as she's helped you so many times, in ways she'll never even know.

And now, she makes you feel important, because you know her life is in your hands. Even when she is sick and unconscious, she is still teaching you new emotions.

You start walking, and as you do so, you think back on all the things she's made you feel up until now.

There are enough to occupy your mind long enough for you to encounter friendly troops, defeated as they may be.

After that, it is more relief, and a bit more worry, as they carry her away to be treated.

You watch them take her, refusing to draw your eyes away from her until the curtains cover her and you physically can no longer see her.

You speak to the kind man as you discuss what has happened, to both of your parties. You awkwardly try to answer the questions you have no real answers to, until the doctor calls you in, permitting you back to your beloved princess' side.

Instinctively, the first thing you do is call out for her, until you realize she's not in any state to be replying.

She is still, quiet, her royal complexion paler than ever beneath the dim lantern light. The sheets are pulled down far enough to reveal the ugly scar on her right hip – the scar she'd gotten because of you.

You could still vividly remember when it had been an open gash, pooling down the side of her body until she was stepping in it.

You shake your head, reminding yourself that time's come and gone, and that she needs you _now_.

You never tear your eyes away from her closed ones as the doctor instructs you on how to hold the light. He works on her wound, cleaning away the blood and patching her up properly.

When he addresses you, your replies come naturally, nervously, as you try to cooperate.

You refuse to eat as he bandages you up, inadvertently telling him of all the guilty parts you play in your princess' injuries.

At last, he leaves the two of you, alone beneath the dim light of the lantern. You place it beside her pillow and kneel down beside her, carefully reaching beneath the sheet to find her hand.

With extreme slowness, you gently move her uninjured arm so that you may hold her hand once again, like you have so many times before.

But unlike before, now her hand is cold, limp, lifeless-

You whimper and violently shake your head, mentally chasing the awful thought away.

Your eyes travel back up over the sheets, to the faint rise and fall of her chest that just barely ruffles the fabrics. A new, thin veil of sweat has started to cover her forehead. You allow one of your hands to leave hers as you reach up to brush your thumb above her brow. There, her skin is still warm, but not as worryingly as before.

You just want her to wake up. You just want to see her look up at you with those incomparably beautiful eyes. You just want to hear that melodic voice saying your name.

Again, a stinging surge rises up behind your eyes. And though you beat it back down as best you can, this time, a few of the tears slip free. Your voice escapes along with them, cracked and feeble.

"Princess... _please_..."

Cradling her hand, you lift it up to your chest, dipping down to kiss the backs of her knuckles. Gingerly, you turn her hand over, and press your cheek in against the familiar creases of her palm. Those tiny little lines run across your skin like paths on a treasure map, leading to a secret base only for the two of you.

Sighing, another tear rolls down your cheek and transfers onto her smooth skin, dribbling down the length of her forearm to her elbow. Your lips find the pulse beating softly in her wrist, covering it as though to protect it, like she's protected you so many times before.

For a long moment, you keep yourself there, feeling the tiny little beats of her life pulsing against your mouth. You kiss her there again as another sob works its way out, and you're forced to close your eyes.

Even then, all you can see is her, marred and mangled, soaked in her own blood, suffering and dying for a cause far less worthy than her own life. Meekly, you beg her not to do this, not again...

"Princess... _Princess_..."

And like a miracle, you are answered.

"Izetta..."

Gasping, your eyes fly open once again, locking immediately with the nostalgic lilac pools of your childhood. They are weary now, exhausted to the point of complete enervation, but the spark of determination and liveliness you know so well remains, if only slightly.

Your mouth dangles open, incredulous that she's woken so soon, after all she's been through. High-speed, mid-air pursuits inside of army planes were enough to make anyone dizzy to the point of nausea. But flying outside of such planes on nothing but a magically-manipulated gun at speeds topping those of the planes themselves, tumultuously spinning, steeply diving, just barely avoiding death every second, all while bleeding continuously...

Your princess really is incredible.

You want to be sure to tell her as much, even though you feel she already knows.

With both hands clasping hers, you begin to tremble, rasping out her title once more.

"Pr-Princess..."

You watch as she heaves a rasping breath, one that seems to ail her slightly, her brow creasing as she winces. But again, her concern is only for others.

"I am glad... you're all right..."

You can barely comprehend how she's still being so selfless, even after all she's been through. You wish you could chide her for it, but you can't bear to argue with her when she is in such a fragile state. You'd never forgive yourself if something you said ended up causing a flash of pain in her eyes. So for now, all you can do is fret.

"Princess... Oh, Princess..." Desperately, you clutch her hand tighter, dipping down to rest your forehead against it. "Oh, thank goodness... you're awake..."

"Izetta..."

Again, she says your name, and it gives your life new meaning, new purpose, new reasons to keep going. Even when she's as weak as she is now, she still manages to give you strength.

But you know her time for defending you has passed for the moment. It is your turn to take care of her.

"Princess, the soldiers brought you food," you inform her dutifully. Not willing to release her hand just yet, you simply nod to the bread sitting nearby. "Please, if you can manage, you should try to eat something!"

"Izetta-"

"O-Or wait! Maybe I should call the doctor in first! He should check to make sure you're okay, th-that nothing else is wrong. Are you in any pain? How is your arm?"

" _Izetta_."

This time, she says it a little more firmly, though it isn't at all unkind. It makes you clam up, makes you realize that she's been trying to tell you something all this time and all you've done is babble. Guilt paints your features as you bow your head, though your gaze remains locked with hers.

With calculating eyes, your princess scans your appearance, assessing your condition before her own. And you're hardly surprised when she smiles so tiredly, so delicately, and speaks even more so.

"You're crying."

Her simple observation states so much more than the obvious.

She knows of the dreadful guilt you're feeling.

She knows you've been blaming yourself all this time, not only for the events of today, but for the past several years as well.

She knows you're in a different kind of pain than she is.

And unlike yourself, she believes you don't deserve to be.

You don't know what to say as you get lost in her eyes anew, drowning willingly in those lilac pools.

"Princess... I-"

"It's not your fault," she assures you. "Don't cry, Izetta."

Just those words alone breed more tears, and you whimper apologies.

"I-I'm sorry, Princess! I-I-!" You can hardly say any more as you hunch forward, still grasping her hand to your chest, wailing softly. "Y-You're hurt again... b-because of me-"

"Izetta," she says again. "This injury wasn't because of you, and you know it."

Miserably, you lift your face, stained with fresh trails of tears now.

"B-But, Princess-!"

"Hush, now," she soothes. "You don't need to apologize anymore, Izetta. You are not at fault for any of this. Please don't cry."

You swallow thickly and shake your head.

"I-I'm sorry, Princess. I can't..."

Again, she smiles.

"Then please, don't cry because you feel guilty for crimes you did not commit. Can you promise me that?"

You hesitate for a moment, trying to regain some shred of composure to show to her.

"I... don't know if I can make that promise, Princess. I don't want to... to lie to you and say that I can..." Little hiccups make your chest jolt as you choke back more tears.

But she isn't upset with you. In fact, she seems as though she'd anticipated this answer all along.

"That's very fair."

You nod, then continue.

"But... I'll try, Princess. I _can_ promise you that."

She blinks, a sign of acceptance.

"Thank you, Izetta."

Then, you feel her hand return the grip you've had on hers for so long now, her slender fingers curling up to grasp the back of your hand.

Before you can respond or ask what she is doing, she is moving her right arm too, lifting it from beneath the sheets and drawing it up and over her body, reaching for you.

Inhaling sharply, you can't help but speak out when the worry courses through you anew.

"P-Princess! You shouldn't move your arm! What if your wound-"

" _Izetta_..."

Again, she breathes your name as though it is some kind of prayer, in such a way that reminds you that you matter in life – if only to her. And even if it _is_ only to her, that means the whole world to you.

You whimper again, more tears streaming down as you bite your lip and listen to her.

"Izetta. I am fine. Please..."

You can see the water threatening behind her eyes, see the wobble on her lips as she tries to fight it back. She reaches up, and if that alone wasn't invitation enough, her verbal offer leaves no room for misinterpretations.

"Come here."

And it's all you can do to keep your voice down as you cry out, leaning down into her embrace as she guides you to her chest.

You lay yourself over her, and this is the closest you've ever come to being her shield.

Your right hand curls at her opposite shoulder, fingers threading through golden strands of silk. And your left hand guides itself to the sheet covering her hip, where the old scar stretches across her skin. You press your palm gently over it, wishing it would vanish altogether, wishing it had never happened in the first place.

But still, some selfish part of yourself won't allow you to forget what she'd once told you:

 _"I don't want it to disappear,"_ she'd said. _"Without it, you could've gotten hurt, or worse. I want to keep it. Because it will always remind me of how dearly I love you, Izetta."_

You'd always hated that such a precious memory was linked to such bloodshed and agony on her part.

But if she could accept that scar as something worth receiving, you'd vowed to appreciate the beauty it contrasted in the rest of her. And even that scar itself is beautiful, because it is a part of her.

So you treat it with care, just as you treat the rest of her. Her bearing that scar is a sign of the utmost devotion, something you knew you'd never deserve from her.

But she deserves all of yours, wholly and truly.

You cling to her however you can in this position as you feel her arms locking around your shoulders and the small of your back. You rest your head against her chest and sob, burying your face into the sheets, and the exposed skin at the side of her neck.

It doesn't take much for you to realize she's crying now, too. Part of the reason she's brought you into her arms like this was probably so you wouldn't be able to see her tears, but you know they are there.

You can feel them, a small, almost timid dampness seeping into your shoulder. She is shaking beneath you, and for a moment, you believe it's just because of the cold.

Until you attribute it to the sobs raking her body, causing her to jolt and gasp almost uncomfortably.

And despite how deeply you've been longing for such intimate contact with her, you're forced to brace your elbows against the ground and push yourself away slightly, relieving a bit of your weight from her smaller frame. For fear of embarrassing her if you are to see her tears, you keep your eyes trained on the screens of her hair as you whisper to her.

"Princess... you're in pain-"

Just the act of saying it out loud makes it more real, and that horrifies you.

But her fingers clutch into your dress, silently begging you not to leave her. If that message wasn't clear enough, she makes sure you know.

"Izetta... If you leave me like this now... the pain will be much greater..."

You know she never intended to put pressure on you like this, but you don't feel the weight of this decision like a burden at all. For her to have said it so clearly like this, you know you could never leave her.

Not now. Not ever.

Her pain is far more emotional than it is physical, and only now do you realize what that means.

That she'd been scared of dying, not only because it would've meant she would no longer exist in this world.

Not only because it would've meant she wouldn't be able to fight for her people and for her country any longer.

But because it would've meant she wouldn't get to be with _you_ anymore.

Death had never frightened her quite so badly until she'd met you.

In that moment, looking down over her trembling, vulnerable form, you understand. You understand that she is crying because she is scared of losing you, just as you are scared of losing her.

And right now, you can't bear to leave her anymore than she can bear to be left.

" _Princess._.."

As the tears start falling anew, you lie yourself back down over her, just as both of you desire. You can feel the relief in her entire body as she pulls you back down, holding you so tightly, you fear she might strain herself. But you know she needs this just as fervently as you do.

Your weight blankets her, and she clings to you. You are what keeps her together when she feels she might fall apart. And she is the same assurance for you.

Your hands and head return to their previous positions, over her scar and chest respectively. You can feel her hands mapping patterns all along your back, cradling you close, refusing to let go for anything.

You won't let go, either.

As you brace your weight over her, you can feel every inch of her as she quivers. The heaving gasps of her breath fan across your ear, causing fresh pangs of worry to shoot through you.

But you trust her, enough to know that she wouldn't let this continue if she were in irreversible pain. And as she'd said, leaving her now would be more hurtful to her than anything else.

So you stay, settling your weight against her as gently as possible. You nestle your face in beneath her chin, settling your ear against her collar. Her skin is still a bit cold there, but you're hoping your warmth can comfort her.

You can hear and feel her sobs more easily than your own now, and deep down, some part of you fears this intimate proximity.

You feel like you're intruding.

You don't feel worthy of being here, so close to her heart.

But you also know she'd never let anyone else come this close.

So you accept it as an honor, bestowed upon someone _she_ believes to be trustworthy enough to take care of her heart. And you vow to do just that, no matter the cost.

You shift ever so slightly, until your ear is guided to the center of her chest, where her pulse beats strongest. You listen, committing every beat to memory, engraving the rhythm into your very soul.

You're able enough to recognize that her heart rate is much faster than it should be, likely due to the combination of her fever and her heightened emotions as she cries into your hair. You wait patiently, willing her to calm down, willing her to realize it's all okay now.

But even after a few minutes, her breathing is still erratic, her chest and stomach heaving beneath yours. Her heart is still pounding, and you can't help but fear for her.

Cautiously, you lift your head, just enough so that you may speak to her.

"Princess... your heart is so frantic." Worry creeps into your tone, making your voice thick. You glimpse her face to find her eyes are squeezed shut, and more sweat covers her forehead.

"I'm all right..." she rasps. "I'm all right..."

But her words do not convince you. There is far too much evidence that suggests her words are lying, while her body tells the truth. She verbally offers only kind reassurance, but no proof. And she physically offers only troubling proof, but no reassurance.

Again, she makes you feel panic.

You want to fetch the doctor, but that would warrant leaving her, as you'd promised not to do. And you fear that calling out for help might agitate her, but waiting for someone to come in could take too long.

There is only one option, and that is for you to help her yourself.

So you use the only viable resources you have left.

Curling over her, you slide your left hand away from her scarred hip, opening your fingers. Mustering up the light in your soul, you draw it out in the form of magic in your palm.

That tiny green light that saw you both through a unique and precious childhood, for better or for worse.

Confident that you can disperse the spell should anyone else enter the tent, you cast the flittering light up into the air.

From there, it slowly begins to divide into smaller particles, each one multiplying until a breathtaking spectacle unfolds beneath the worn old tent. Glowing green dust dances and swirls like a parade of fireflies – dazzling, comforting, familiar.

She is the only other person in the world who's seen this – the only other person you've _let_ see it, you've _trusted_ to see it. This is something for you and her alone.

You can feel the immediate effect it has on her.

She gasps, but it isn't harsh like it has been until now. Her breath is soft and wondrous, innocent again, as it was so many years ago.

You can tell she is remembering all the times you've shared together – in grassy spring meadows, by colorful autumn lake beds, and inside dusty winter barns.

The memories are only pleasant ones, ones she's lived out time and again in her favorite dreams, together with you.

It soothes her aching sobs, eases her desperate breaths, and calms her flustered heart.

You feel firsthand how greatly it helps her, making it all more than worth the risk.

But still, even after all she's been through, she is worried about you. Her embrace on you tightens as she murmurs thinly into the shell of your ear.

"Izetta... your magics..." She knows you're not supposed to use them, and you've done so twice in one day for her sake.

But you nestle closer to her, pressing your lips softly over the beat of her heart.

"Princess... it's all right. Please rest. I want you to be okay..."

Relief washes over you as you feel her nod, her chest deflating in a sigh beneath yours.

"I will be," she promises as her eyelids flutter shut once more. "Thank you... Izetta..."

"Princess..."

It feels good just to say her title, and even better to relax against her.

You fully intend to tell the doctor about everything regarding her condition in the morning, but for now, you feel she's improved enough to keep this time you've shared together a secret.

You allow your magics to continue their dance until you feel her breathing slow and deepen to a more regular pace. Until the strain leaves her lungs, and you feel safe enough to rest fully against her. Until you can hear her heartbeat drop to a more controlled, peaceful pace and volume.

Only then, when you are more than certain that she is deep in slumber, do you call off the spell.

For a long while, you lie there with her, her arms still loosely draped across your back as you rub lightly all up and down her sides. Every time you pass over the scar, you are fueled with another spark of conviction to ensure she'll never be hurt again – not if you can help it.

You lost track of time long ago, as soon as she'd opened her eyes and spoken your name.

So for some undetermined portion of the night, you lie there with her, keeping her warm, feeling her breathe.

You listen to her heart, the rhythm which is the source of her life, and the meaning for yours.

You're honored to be so close – closer than anyone's ever been before. She's the first person who's ever trusted you, with everything she is, and with everything she has.

She makes you feel confident that you can be worthy of such trust.

She makes you feel a lot of things.

She always has.

The fear and the panic that come with potentially losing her.

The confusion and doubt that come with her relentless belief in you.

The determination and confidence that come with her exposure of weakness to you.

And the unbridled affection and happiness that come with being so unconditionally cherished by her alone.

These are the things she gives you, the things you never asked for, but would never exchange for any reward. These feelings she evokes in you, moving your soul like the miracle you'd always longed for.

You love her with every fiber of your being, with every ounce of magic in your soul. You would do anything for her – even death was a small price to pay.

But you weren't going to let that happen. Not when she was still going to need you for a long time; not when _you_ were still going to need _her_.

That night, with her curled safely and warmly beneath you, you feel something new, something indescribable.

Something you'll only ever feel on nights like these, rare as they may be.

Something that is only between the two of you.

She's taught you how to feel so many things.

You want to learn more.

You never want to stop learning, feeling.

So long as you stay by her side, you know you never will.

* * *

 **A/N: Goodness gosh I really hope they become more-than-friends in canon. Let us pray.**

 **More to come!**


	2. Come What May

**A/N: Written directly after I saw episode 3, this is a direct continuation from the end of that episode, and succeeds The Things She Gives You.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

* * *

Come What May

It's still very difficult to comprehend.

You've won, or at the very least, your incredible efforts on behalf of your beloved princess have resulted in the success of her armies, at least for now.

Perhaps it is only a small, single victory in the grand scheme of things, but right here, right now, it is substantial.

But even more so than that, it is empowering.

You feel that palpable excitement in the air as you descend towards them, the armies of wounded, but delightfully dumbfounded men and women, who have just become the victors of today thanks to your magics.

But it isn't they you are approaching.

Your princess stands there at the forefront, exactly where you know she'd be in line of the battalions if she could be, ready to shed her blood for the sake of her people.

Only now, it is tears she sheds, and they are for you.

Your apologies are barely out of your trembling lips as you land, bowing your head in guilt. Before you can even comprehend it, she is rushing forward, shouting not in anger, but in the utmost relief. She throws her arms around you, sobbing and shuddering almost violently.

For a split second, you fear she's in pain again, but it's soon made clear it's just the opposite.

She clings to you, shaking as though from dire cold, but the warmth you feel from her proves that is far from the case.

She whimpers her gratitude to you, words of relief for your safety, and then for your services. Services you'd given even though she'd adamantly refused them. Because you knew she didn't want to put your life in danger, not after the shared history she's lived through with you in your younger years.

But you knew. You knew she'd needed you, that her people needed you, and so you'd made the decision on your own to lend them your powers.

Even though you knew she'd wanted to avoid this because of the outcomes it would surely breed.

Their enemies knew now that Eylstadt had a witch on its side, and they absolutely weren't going to react kindly about it.

You know this as well as she does.

You know your actions today will only endanger your future self.

And you know she has no intentions of leaving your side, nor you hers.

Therefore, you'll be jeopardizing her.

You both know that.

But...

But at least, for _right now,_ it is worth it.

She cries freely over you shoulder, clutching at your back, heart pounding thickly against yours. You can't help but remember last night, how familiar all this feels. She holds you now as she'd held you then, as though you are the most precious thing in the world to her.

Only now, her tears are for better reasons.

It is all you can do to hug her in return, reaching around the gun, being careful in touching her injured arm as you whimper her title and cry with her.

The defeated men are now triumphant, and their shouts of joy rise up into the air, making for an uplifting, beautiful sunset.

When you and your princess are able to, you invite her onto your mount, securing her in your lap as you've done before, the position now becoming familiar to the both of you.

You descend down the mountainside, over the treetops, until the troops below take note of you. And though they are clearly confused about the strange magics at play here, they don't question it, nor you.

As they rally in a chorus of cheers, you set her down to look out over her men. You take a proud stance at her side, your hand brushing subtly against hers. She returns the grip with a fervent nonchalance, the smile on her face as dazzling as the sparkle in her eyes.

As the soldiers celebrate their victory, you can hear how they are attributing it to you as well as to her. They proclaim praises and words of gratitude, until the valiant voices break out into song.

Humbled, you stand there and listen, tears welling up in your eyes as you relish in their joy.

Likewise, your princess is still, unmoving as she appreciates their melody.

For a long moment, all just seems right with the world.

But as wonderful as it is, it is a fleeting moment, and before much longer, you can feel her grip on your fingers loosen.

Concerned, you flash her a brief glance, finding her silent, head bowed, eyes closed.

And you know she is grieving all those she's lost today, all of the good soldiers who've laid down their lives for the sake of their country, their families, their freedom. Tears fall, glinting in the setting sunlight on their way down to the blood-soaked soil, her breath quivering.

You don't know what to say, what you _can_ say. There isn't anything even your magics can do to bring back those men.

Perhaps if you'd acted sooner, you might've spared a few more of them.

The guilt is becoming contagious. Though you know she doesn't want you blaming yourself any more than you want her to blame herself, neither of you can help it.

But she has a duty to her people to be strong right now, even if it is just an act of reassurance.

So she wipes her sleeve over her eyes and lifts her chin once more as the men end their courageous song. They finish by chanting her name until it echoes from the mountaintops.

Poised and proud, she gives a brief speech about their honorable work, commending them to no end for their valiant efforts. She dismisses them with a fist to her chest and a bow of deep gratitude to the soldiers of her country.

As the crowds begin to disperse, higher-ups start giving orders, figuring out where everyone is going to spend the night. You hold tight to your princess' hand and help her climb down from the boulder.

Almost instantly, the sergeants and commanders are there before you both, insisting you return to shelter and spend the night.

But she refuses in the kindest of ways, wanting instead to oversee the treatment of the injured and ensure that every soldier is given arrangements that are as hospitable as possible in these conditions.

From the time the sun sets to the time the moon is halfway across the sky, you follow her wherever she goes, as a lost puppy would follow a kind soul.

And you're surprised and flattered when the men compliment you as well, bowing deeply to show their gratitude and wonder for your abilities. Every time, you blush and squeak that you're not deserving of their thanks, and every time the princess chuckles and encourages you to accept their words.

By the time the two of you are finally escorted back to shelter, you must've received at least half the amount of praise that she has, and that is quite an impressive amount. Certainly more than you've ever heard in your entire life before, from persons other than your beloved princess, anyway.

But the triumphs of the day have taken their toll on the both of you by now as you limp inside the old building, bustling with men and women soldiers alike who are settling down for the night, until reinforcements and transportation arrive at first light to bring them to secure locations elsewhere.

For now, the rooms are lit only by dim lantern-light and silver moonbeams seeping through the cracks. The smells of meat and bread are thick on the air as those who are still awake treat themselves.

You follow her through the lines of soldiers sitting on the floor, laughing and talking and simply reveling in their success.

That is when an embarrassingly familiar and telltale rumble rips its way through your stomach, growling more loudly than their merry laughter. With a whimper, you stop dead in your tracks, heat boiling up to settle in your cheeks.

Your princess pauses, turns back to giggle over her shoulder, her eyes alight with amusement.

"Let's have a bit of supper, shall we?"

You nod, keeping your eyes trained on the floor. She chuckles again, steps closer, and takes both of your hands in hers.

She guides you several paces away to where a group of soldiers are sharing bread. They spot the two of you and eagerly invite you to join.

Your princess dips her head graciously and accepts the offer. She coaxes you down beside her, and you can't help but keep close to her side, still flushing from just how hungry you are.

Like a blessing, the man closest to you hands you an entire loaf of warm bread.

"Here," he grunts with a smile. "For our savior, the Witch."

"A-Ah!" You react on instinct and hold out your hand to accept, then quickly turn the other way. "B-But the Princess-!" You fret, not wanting to eat unless she has done the same.

But another soldier is handing her another loaf of bread as well.

You release a sigh and smile, unable to recall the last time you'd actually seen her eat something. You turn back to the man who handed you your supper and dip your head.

"Th-Thank you very much."

"Don't mention it, Miss. It's us who've gotta thank you."

With that, he turns away and listens to the next story being told.

You're eager to get started on your bread, but you hold off, flashing a glance to your princess. She is fixated on the conversations of the soldiers and has yet to touch her food. Biting your lip, you chew on that instead.

She must've noticed your plight, because she glances your way and smiles.

"Izetta, please eat."

"Y-You, too, Princess!" you blurt out. "You should eat something!"

"I will," she assures. "I'm just listening for now."

With that much said, you finally feel sure enough about it. Therefore, you tear off a piece of the bread and began to satiate your growling stomach, consuming no less than half the loaf in a single minute.

Having made sure to sit on her left side so as not to potentially irritate her arm wound, you lean slightly into her and let out a soft breath.

"I'm so glad I could help..."

She turns to you once again, reaching out to place a hand over yours.

"You've done so much more than that, Izetta. I really cannot thank you enough."

Her lilac eyes shimmer with flecks of gold sparked by the lanterns, and her joy is so genuine it moves your very soul. You can feel tears of joy rising up behind your eyes as you present her with a shy grin.

"It was the least I could do for your country, Princess. I'm glad to be of assistance."

She bows her head to you ever-so-slightly, your private conversation never interrupting that of her soldiers.

After a moment has passed, you clear your throat, directing her attention to the matter that's still making you anxious.

"Princess, your food."

"Oh, yes." She seemed to have forgotten about it until now. She tears off a piece, fully-intent to enjoy herself.

But before the soft sustenance can touch her lips, the two of you are approached by a pair of rapid, heavy footsteps.

You straighten up right away, feeling the tension in those steps, fearing something is about to shatter this peace you've only just found.

She, too, straightens her back and turns to the source of the sound.

A familiar blond man skids to a halt, panting and clearly upset. Subconsciously, you tighten your grip on your princess' hand as she addresses him.

"Hans? What's the matter? Has something happened?"

Her carefree giggle and bright eyes have faded once more into a serious tone and calculated vision. Even after the long, horrendous day, she's still prepared to jump into action should it be needed.

You train your eyes on Hans, equally as fretful as you are determined to do whatever it takes to keep your princess safe.

But it is soon clear there is nothing you can do.

Not for this.

Hans lifts his face, distress and grief contorting his features. For even this war-worn man to be upset by what he is about to reveal makes your stomach churn. His eyes bore into the princess', but as he speaks, he looks down at the floor.

"Princess Fine. A message has just arrived..."

In spite of the foreboding implications, she keeps her voice calm, level.

"A message?"

Hans grits his teeth, and continues in a low, regretful tone.

"Yes. Princess Fine... I'm deeply sorry to inform you that... your Father has succumbed to his illness."

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing fills the air in that next moment.

Not a single sound.

Silence hangs in the room like a plague, until it starts taking its victims.

One by one, gasps and shouts arise from all around, horrified, grievous cries.

"What?"

"Your Excellency has...?"

"How can this be?"

Horror and despair rip through you, making you want to vomit the meal you've just enjoyed. After the incredible victory these people have seen today, for it to end in such heartbreaking tragedy so quickly...

But as the soldiers cry out all around you, and as your stomach twists inside, you can only focus on her.

She is still.

So still.

Her lips are parted slightly in a gasp that never finishes, her eyes frozen in a blank, helpless stare. Her breath is hitched, the words caught in her throat, choking her into silence.

Hans never lifts his gaze. He doesn't want to see her reaction.

You know this for a fact, because you don't want to, either.

But you can't look away from her, unmoving, snared in the cruel vices of the universe after only just obtaining victory.

You can feel her hand in yours as it begins to tremble, her nails curling and uncurling slightly against your palm, as if they don't quite know what to do with themselves.

You feel your tears just as easily as you can see her fighting back her own.

You try to rasp her title, but no sound is produced.

It is she who speaks next, thin and fragile.

"My... My father has...?"

Hans only bows more deeply.

"My... My sincerest apologies, Princess. All of Eylstadt mourns this loss tonight with all our hearts."

Nothing feels real to you.

It doesn't make sense; you're reacting as though you've been informed of your own relative's passing, not hers.

But you understand that the pain you are feeling is _for_ her.

There are emotions she can't allow herself to express, even in front of her own soldiers.

You wish she would. No one would blame her for it.

Everyone around you is already sobbing, grown men and women alike.

But still, even now, with this terrible news weighing down her heart, your princess refuses to show that weakness. All she can manage is a hollow, lifeless reply.

"I see..."

The bread rolls out of her lap as she stands, her hand slipping away from yours.

You whimper, tears already streaming down as you scramble to follow her, bracing her back right away when she sways on her feet.

"P-Princess-"

But you can't say anything more.

There's nothing else you _can_ say.

Not for this.

Nothing can ever make this better for her.

She limps past her men as their once-triumphant songs spiral down into mournful howls. Desperately, you stay at her side, clinging to the small of her back in an effort to support her.

You can only cry, leaving droplets behind on the dusty floorboards to make a path. You don't know where she's going, and something tells you she doesn't, either.

Just... away.

She doesn't want to be seen by her people.

Not like this.

But your only reassurance is the fact that she never once asks you to leave her side, nor does she ever imply that she wants to dismiss you.

She hobbles to an empty room, the only occupants of which are a single lantern and a few empty mats. She barely makes it that far before she falls to her knees, collapsing so weakly it startles you into crying out.

"P-Princess!"

You crouch down beside her, pressing close to her side, sniffling without rest. You watch her lift both hands to her face to hide it, the thinnest, most heartbreaking sound tumbling from her lips.

It doesn't sound like a breath. It sounds as though her soul is leaving her body.

"I... I knew this day was coming..." she whispers. Possibly it's to you, possibly to herself, possibly to no one at all. Her voice is thick and cracked, her breath hitching with tears she buries in the creases of her palms.

"His condition wasn't improving... he'd told me to... steel myself for this outcome... to be ready to rule alone... I just never expected... so soon... and _today_ of all days..."

She releases another sigh, and another part of her soul goes with it.

She begins to tremble, then shake, as violently as she had earlier today upon embracing you after your return from the battlefield.

You much preferred the motion before, when her tears had been for joy.

But now...

Now they were for the most terrible of reasons.

"Princess..."

You can't do anything more than weakly whisper and hold her close, pulling her in. Resting one hand on her convulsing shoulders, you press the other against her side.

Her heart is breaking beneath your palm. You can feel it striking, fear and sorrow and pain piling up on every beat until her sobs are silently choking her.

She is falling apart in your arms, and there is nothing you can do about it.

There is nothing you can do to stop it.

Nothing you can do to make it better.

All you can do is let her cry, and cry with her.

You bury your face against her shoulder and sob miserably into her silken hair.

"Princess... I'm sorry... I-I'm... I'm so sorry..."

Sorry is all you can be.

You can't be brave right now. You can't be strong. Not even for her sake.

Because her grief is your grief, and her pain is your pain.

You can feel her hands gripping blindly at the borrowed uniform you're wearing, but she can't seem to find purchase for long before the spasms force her fingers elsewhere.

This is worse than last night. So much worse.

Because you know you can't fix this.

Not with kind words, not with magics.

All you can do is hold her close and let her grieve.

And you grieve with her, until you feel there are no tears left to shed.

But she keeps going, as though she is finally crying for all those years she's suppressed herself.

You cover her, let her hide herself in your collar, in your shoulder, wherever is most comfortable for her in that instance. You stroke softly through her hair and kiss her temple, whispering her title over and over again, reminding her that you're here.

"Princess... Princess..."

You don't know how long it takes for her to finally compose herself enough to speak again. She's been stifling her breath and her sobs into your shirt all this time, so when she speaks, her voice is nothing but a feeble rasp.

"Izetta... I'm so sorry... I should be... celebrating you for what you've done for us today. And instead..."

A pang shoots through you as you flounder for the right words.

"P-Princess! Please don't apologize to me! I-I don't need celebrating! I don't need anything like that! I-I just... I just... need you to be okay..." you confess, clutching her tighter. "A-And I know... that you can't be okay. Not right now. A-And I know there's nothing I can do to help you... I'm sorry..."

She struggles to catch her breath, to speak around the sobs lodged at the top of her chest. Her heart is still breaking as much as her voice is.

"No... I am sorry for... I... I need to be your princess... and yet... here I am... still so _weak_..."

"Princess..." Your voice is a plea, begging her not to degrade herself at a time like this, for a purpose so menial. "It's okay to be weak... if n-not to your people, then just... just me. You can be weak here... with me. It's okay, Princess..."

You feel as though you've said something right, something she's needed to hear for a long time now.

Because she sobs much more loudly than she has until now, a gasp that begins in the core of her stomach and jolts throughout her entire body. She shakes hard against you, wailing fractions of her voice in caterwauls of grief.

The severity of her reaction tells you just how strongly she feels about your statement, that she believes it is true.

But it still pains you beyond explanation.

The girl whom you'd always known to be so joyful, so vibrant, so full of life...

Now, she is making the most distressing sounds you've ever heard.

She sounded so... so defeated.

So broken.

You feel as though you've only won a small battle today, but the passing of her father is a loss ten times greater than that single victory.

She cries.

Just cries, and her sobs rise up through the windows and out into the stars, never to be heard by anyone other than yourself.

It is a sorrowful honor to be granted this position. At the very least, it reinforces how deeply she trusts you above anyone else.

Again, for the second night in a row, she lets you see, hear, and feel her cry.

You hold her close, until she's exhausted herself beyond her limits. Physically, she can't bear it any longer, and she slumps into your arms. You help her sit up just a bit, just enough so that she can swallow, and so her lungs can function properly.

Somewhere along the lines, her sobs turn into fractured whispers of your name.

"Izetta... Izetta..."

And you return each one with hers.

"Princess... Princess..."

You close your eyes and hold her until the painful crying stops.

Until her labored breathing has slowed.

Until her speeding pulse has dropped.

Gently, you lay her down onto one of the mats, cradling her head in your hands before you curl up at her side. You drape one arm across her stomach and side in an effort to keep her warm.

At this point, she is barely conscious. She is far too enervated on every level - mental, emotional, and physical. The dreadful news of her father's passing managed to sap away the last of her energy, until it was all but depleted.

You fear for her health, for her wellbeing. It scares you, shakes you to the core, what you've seen her go through in just these past two days alone.

"It isn't fair..." you mumble against her coat. "Princess..."

You'd assumed she'd slipped into unconscious already, but a slight stir tells you otherwise. Her eyes remain closed, but her arm comes up to rest against your shoulders, keeping you close.

She makes it clear that she wants you here tonight.

"Ize...tta..."

Sniffling, you peek up at her tearstained face.

"I'm here, Princess. I'm here..."

Just those words seem to be enough.

She sighs, and you hear the rush of air go through her lungs, hoping it can retrieve the pieces of her soul and bring them back in with the next breath she draws.

Her heartbeat rings dully in your ear. Unlike last night, when it was slow and steady in the end, now it is erratic once more, and painfully hard. You weep into her collar, willing her to sleep, simply so her pain can be halted, if only shortly.

Finally, it seems you get your wish. She grows still, limp, silent.

You've never hated the universe more than you do today.

Not even when it persecuted you for existing, and tried to punish you for crimes you unknowingly committed simply by being born.

All you'd ever wanted to do was keep her safe, and even now, that is all you want.

Even in spite of this horrible tragedy, you vow never to give up on that promise – not even at your dying breath.

With a heavy heart, you pull yourself away from her, just for a moment. You brush your thumbs over her cheeks, clearing away as many of the tears as possible before dipping down. Softly, you press you lips over her pale cheek, letting a few tears of your own transfer onto her skin.

" _I'm so sorry, Princess._.."

Helplessly, you curl back over her and close your eyes.

You don't know what tomorrow will bring.

But you pray it won't be as awful as this.

As your conscious fades, so too does that feeling of helplessness.

Instead, it only fuels your determination to protect what you love most in this world.

You will defend her until your dying breath, or until there is nothing left to defend her from.

Come what may, you'll stay by her side either way, for as long as you both shall live.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't know why I felt compelled to write this (no wait, yes I do, it's because I wanna see some intimate hurt/comfort/affection between these two haha).**

 **I guess I just really want episode 4 to show us Fine finding out about her father, and I want Izetta to be there to comfort her when it happens. Part of me can envision Fine breaking down like this over his death, if only in private, but the other part of me can absolutely see her as the strong, silent type who composes herself and tries not to let it faze her. I guess we'll just have to wait for episode 4...**


	3. The Light At Her Side

**A/N: I'd just wanted to write a quick Finetta fic this week. It kind of relates to the previous two, but in those Fine and Izetta weren't officially romantically involved (though I heavily implied it haha). But in this one, there's no mistake about it.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

* * *

The Light At Her Side

When you open your eyes, you're met with the sight of a warm, peaceful light, leaking in through the royal curtains. Your sense of touch is blessed by the finest softness, a mattress, pillow, and blanket all fit for a queen.

Or in this case, a princess.

As you roll over onto your back and gaze up at the ceiling, you can hear her breathing quietly beside you. It makes your heart flutter and jump for joy just as it did the very first time, even though you've been sleeping next to her for close to a week now.

You still can't believe the servants and other members of the household allowed it, and are still allowing it.

But then again, when faced with a direct request straight from their princess' smiling lips, not even the most intimidating, distrusting of her overseers could stand firm.

You still can't fathom the fact that it's happening, that you've finally gotten to love your princess as you've always dreamed of loving her.

And even less fathomable is the fact that she loves you back the very same way.

You of all people, of all things.

A witch.

And she's _still_ chosen you, just as she did so many years ago at the chance of your meeting.

It's certainly the first time something like this has ever happened. After all, there hadn't ever been that many witches around to cause a scene, let alone fall in love with princesses. And nowadays, you're the only one left with the privilege to do so.

So why not accept that privilege?

Especially if it's not going to hurt anyone in the process.

You let out a long, contented sigh, letting it take some of the inhibitions along with it.

It always takes you a moment to gather your bearings before you can look at her each morning. You need to prepare yourself for laying eyes upon her beautiful face and form.

You take a few minutes at your leisure, aware of the world outside the window, telling you it's yet before the sun's a fraction of the way up. You still have some time to enjoy this tranquility with her. But you don't want to waste that time away by simply preparing yourself.

When you feel you're ready enough, you push your elbows against the mattress, twisting your legs against the white fabrics of your nightgown until you're comfortable enough. You draw in a breath as you turn yourself over onto your side to face her.

Some mornings, she is facing you, others she faces the heavens.

But today, she has her back to you, her upturned shoulder and side rising and falling ever so gently beneath the sheets. Her long, luscious golden hair spills down and pools at her back like a pond of melted coins, and equally as expensive.

Even when you were younger, you'd admired the length and texture of her hair, knowing she was one of few people wealthy enough to sustain it in these difficult times of war and high tensions. It is a symbol of her wealth, her power, and her honor. And most importantly, it is a part of her.

Seeing that she is resting serenely and without any evident signs of discomfort eases your mind.

Though you've only been sleeping beside her for a few nights, that's still been long enough for you to have witnessed her night terrors firsthand.

You shudder to remember those nights.

The first time had been the worst, simply because you hadn't known what was happening.

One moment, your conscious had been treading merrily to the side of slumber, wreathed in the pleasant presence of your princess and you new, favorable sleeping environment.

And suddenly, some unnamed instinct had grabbed you and yanked you off the edge, forcing you awake in the darkness of midnight. You'd sensed her suffering, the intangible demons that had kept her snared, trapped in her own nightmares, writhing and whimpering, her forehead beaded with sweat, brows knit tightly together, lips agape in gasps of air that refused to come as she needed them to.

The panic that had flared within you had been so poignant, so terrifying, so harrowingly alarming that you'd yelped her title aloud and reached out for her, trembling to shake her awake. You'd called for her again and again, on the verge of tears yourself until her eyes had flown open, wide in terror as the bloody images she'd seen lingered in the back of her mind.

She'd looked to you with fear and confusion warring in her gaze, just as her soldiers warred on the battlefields.

She'd croaked out your name, panting heavily, and had reached up for you – a wordless request you'd jumped at the chance to fulfill.

And you'd clung to her in your fright for her wellbeing, asked her repeatedly what was wrong, what had happened, all the while able to feel how hard her troubled heart was slamming against her chest.

It had taken quite some time for the both of you to come down from that, for her to get her breath back and explain it all to you.

You'd listened with reserve and resolve, trying to understand the pain she endured for her country, even in her sleep, when she was supposed to be safest.

You'd kissed her to sleep that night, easing her ragged breathing and throbbing pulse with your lips, willing her to erase the nightmares from her mind.

Unfortunately, the first night hadn't been the only one. It happened at least every other evening, and sometimes on consequent nights.

Every time, it had varied in terms of severity and length.

Sometimes, she was trapped in her panic for hours on end, shaking and crying in your arms until she was physically too exhausted to do anything more than fall back into a state of unconsciousness.

Sometimes, it was brief, and just a single word or kiss from you would cajole her rapid pulse.

You couldn't even imagine how she'd survived this long on her own, with so many sleepless years behind her, and yet she'd managed to rule her country.

Until now, only very recently, she'd dealt with those nightmares alone. She'd even told you you're the only person to know about them. Not even her maids or personal guard had the slightest inkling of suspicion.

And again, you can't help but feel almost guiltily privileged, because knowing this troubling secret of hers demonstrates just how deeply and wholly she trusts you.

Presently, you swallow hard and try to chase off the memories of her torment.

Her most recent nightmare had happened two nights ago, and it had woken you from a deep slumber. You'd held her and kissed her until her sobs had subsided, and overall, it had been a fairly quiet incident.

You decide to thank the gods or the fates or the universe that last night she'd slept soundly, and hadn't been roused for malicious reasons even once. You're sure of this, because you are linked so closely to her that you would've woken right away if something had been amiss with her condition.

So you're thankful that she's been blessed with a full night's sleep this time around, and you yourself appreciate it as well.

Slowly, you shift closer to her, doing your best not to allow the mattress to creak beneath your weight. Inch by inch, you near her back, then reach out with timid fingers to touch her royal tresses.

She's told you time and again that you're free to do so whenever you please. That you don't need to be so nervous and ask for permission every time. That it's only natural you touch her now that you're blissfully bound together by love.

But you just can't help feeling guilty about not asking her consent. After all, she's a princess, and there isn't a soul on this planet that's more worthy of respect than hers.

So you withdraw your hand almost immediately, clutching it to your chest with a soft whimper.

It isn't a loud sound at all, but evidently, it's loud enough. She's just as perceptive to your distress as you are to hers, even when you're both deep in sleep.

With only that tiny sound from your lips, she is shifting onto her back, moaning tiredly in an irresistibly adorable, and yet somehow still refined manner. Her eyelids flutter open like a butterfly's wings in the sunlight, revealing swirls of breathtaking lavender. Her voice is hoarse from sleep as she struggles to look you over.

"Izetta... Is everything all right?"

You huddle up behind a fist-full of blankets, dismayed that you've woken her from an otherwise undisturbed sleep.

"P-Princess! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to wake you! And you were resting so peacefully this time..." The guilt washes over you in waves and you lower your gaze, instead looking at the ruffled sheets between the two of you.

But she's nothing if not a merciful angel, forgiving and earnest in all that she does.

"It's all right. I was worried something was wrong. I'm glad that isn't the case."

Somehow, just hearing her familiar voice and listening to her refined speech saps enough of the guilt away, where the connotations of the words themselves erase it altogether.

And if that isn't enough, she pulls her arms free of the sheets, revealing her light purple nightgown as she reaches out to you with both hands.

You freeze up as warm fingers cup your cheeks, her thumbs rubbing in light circles. She says nothing for a moment and simply gazes into your eyes. You forget how to be embarrassed and do the same.

But after a minute or so, you can feel your cheeks warming up, taking on a color to match your hair.

"P-Princess..."

"Oh!" To your dismay, she withdraws her hands. "Forgive me. I was just lost in thought." A small yawn prevents her from say anything more on that matter.

You take the chance to sidle closer, reaching out to hold both of her hands in yours, just for now.

"Princess, you should rest a little longer. It's not time to get up yet."

You bite your lip and hope that today isn't one of those mornings where she feels motivated enough to get out of bed an hour early. Usually, that happens after her sleepless nights, when she's eager to get to work in order to take her mind off the nightmares.

You feel a surge of relief when she nods now, agreeing with you.

"Yes. I think I'd like to sleep for a little longer."

Her answer confirms your hopes - that she'd slept soundly all last night, and that nothing was nipping at her ankles, forcing her to face the day. She is relaxed enough to keep sleeping, comfortable enough to invite the unconsciousness back, trusting it would be kind to her this time around.

You vow to make sure it will be.

"Princess..." Smiling, you scoot in a little closer. "Did you sleep well last night?" You want to be absolutely sure.

And she nods again, causing your heart to soar.

"Yes," she replies. "It was the best sleep I've had in years. And I know it's all thanks to you, Izetta."

"E-Eh? Me? I-I don't think I'm the reason, Princess!"

"But I'm convinced of it," she insisted, nothing but honesty in her eyes. "Ever since we've... been together like this, everything has become so much better. It feels like after years of stormy weather, there's been a break of sunshine in the dark clouds."

Her analogy is so unexpectedly touching, and you find difficulty in believing it's you whom she's referring to. Before you can even think of a response, the joyful tears are rolling down your cheeks.

"Princess... it-it's the same for me. All those years, it's been dark... but now... now it's so warm in the light at your side."

You close your eyes and turn your face into the pillow, trying to stifle the little hiccuping sobs. Again, you feel her hands, this time on your shoulders, pulling you in.

"Izetta... don't hide your tears. Don't be ashamed of your sensitivity. It's something I've always admired about you, how you can express your emotions so honestly."

You know she is mentioning this because her emotions have always been things she'd struggled with. As a princess, she'd had to suppress herself many times, on many occasions, for many years. You're just glad that she doesn't feel obligated to do that when she's with you.

You lift your arms, blindly about to slip them around her waist when you pause, quickly lifting your face again, seeking her eyes.

"P-Princess... m-may I...?"

She smiles so genuinely it's touching, and dips her head.

"Of course."

Maybe you'll never quite break out of the habit of asking for her consent, but so long as she's willing to give it, you know you'll never mind checking first.

With a gentle fervor, you pull yourself close to her, until your stomach is pressed up against hers. You're extremely and especially careful with threading your fingers through her hair, knowing how dearly she treasures it.

As you regain control over your tears, you feel her release a sigh, her breath fanning out warmly against the side of your neck. You sniffle once, then snuggle closer against her collar.

"Rest, Princess. For just a while longer."

You can already feel her grip loosening, and her voice is slow.

"Izetta... please wake me... when it's time..."

You press a soft kiss to the center of her collar.

"I will, Princess."

With that, she finally relinquishes her hold on the last of the strands keeping her here in the world of the waking. With one last sigh, she falls silent, and her breathing becomes deep and slow once again.

You hold her there for several minutes, feeling as every sacred breath enters and leaves her body, savoring the sensation of her chest dipping in and then rising up to meet yours.

You just want to stay like this forever, to keep being close to her, warm and safe.

If only it could be that simple.

Maybe one day it can be.

But for now, time is inevitably working against you.

So after a few moments, once your arms start to prickle with numbness, you take meticulous care into shifting your position. Holding firmly to her shoulders, you turn her over to lie her down onto her back. You move with her, and somehow her arms remain draped over your back. You partially lay yourself down over her, keeping your hips and legs off to the side while your head and torso settle atop her form.

Hugging her gently, you rest your head over her heartbeat, pressing your ear closely to catch that beautiful rhythm. It is strong, lively, and beautiful, just like she is.

You get lost in listening, enveloped in her presence, breathing in her scent.

You never could distinguish exactly what it is she smells like. It's a bit of gunpowder, a bit of earth, a bit of fresh material, and a bit of sunlight.

Overall, you like to think of it as the scent of hope.

Because that's what she is to you.

Closing your eyes, you make sure not to fall back asleep, as you've promised to wake her when the designated time arrives.

For as long as you can, you simply listen to the beat of her heart, steady and sure, unobstructed by fear or discomfort. You feel her breathing, soak in her warmth, and worship her being, her very soul.

Only when the room becomes a shade lighter do you know it's time. It always seems to come too quickly, because you'll never have enough time to be alone with her like this. But you won't break your promise to her.

Turning your face, you hold one last kiss over her heart, to the ivory skin that's never been seen by anyone other than those closest to her. And even the rest of the people in that category have never been blessed enough to hold their lips to it.

Gradually, you push yourself up and away from her alluring warmth. You pause, taking a long moment to trace her form with your eyes. From the intricate strands of gold shimmering in the sunlight, to the contours and curves of her face, to the slope of her neck and the plateau of her collar, you take in every inch of her, wreathed in incomparable elegance.

But ultimately, your eyes move back up to the soft, pink plush of her lips.

You're a witch, for goodness' sake. You've heard enough fairytales to know the proper way to wake a princess.

Leaning down, you draw in a small breath, then let it out as you feel hers.

Softly, gently, you kiss her, measuring the length of the moment in beats of her heart, thrumming beneath your palm.

And at last, her eyelids lift once more to reveal that royal purple, bright and grateful and happier than ever to be waking up, since it is to you.

You pull away from her with a smile already curving your lips and greet her.

"Good morning, Princess!"

As she begins pushing herself up, you reach out to support her, keeping a hand on her back. She smiles, and it's brighter than the sun can ever hope to be.

"Good morning, Izetta."

You don't know what the rest of today will hold in store for you both, or if tonight she'll suffer from more nightmares.

But at least for now, you can face the dawn at her side.

* * *

 **A/N: I just... really want them to be girlfriends and I know it's probably not going to happen orz**


	4. Half Her Strength

**My weekly Finetta fic! Dedicated to Makas0ul for their support! Thank you! I was recommended to write Izetta and Fine feeling nervous/relieved before and after Izetta's big speech to the Germanians.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

* * *

Half Her Strength

Howling winds blast through the foggy mountainside, causing the tent around you to shudder.

But you don't falter, nor do you tremble – not as you make this request.

You cannot let an innocent girl take on your role against the Germanian soldiers. The job is far too dangerous, and you won't stand for anyone but yourself being put in that position.

Your princess can see that set determination in your eyes, you know she does, because she dips her head and consents.

"Very well. Izetta will address the Germanians herself."

She promptly turns to the girl that is being dressed in Izetta's appearance and dismisses them all from the tent.

You are well-aware of what the princess has told you, how these women soldiers are loyal to Elystadt down to the kerosine in the tips of their nails and hair, how they wouldn't hesitate to lay down their lives for their country, and for their princess.

But you still notice the sigh of relief your look-alike gives just before she exits the tent, leaving you alone with your beloved princess.

She remains standing at the opposite side of the table, her eyes trained on the other girls. But as soon as they've left, her gaze ultimately travels back to you, as it always seems to do.

"Izetta..." Her voice is low and weighted with concern. "Are you absolutely sure about this? You seem uneasy. My soldiers are more than capable of taking on this role."

Now, you too stand from your seat, maintaining eye contact.

"Please don't misunderstand me, Princess! I never doubted for a second that your soldiers weren't capable of the task! It's just that... I'd feel so much more uneasy if I were putting an innocent girl's life in danger while I waited safely here in a tent. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her!"

The princess' eyes are melancholy, and for a moment she is silent. When she next speaks, it is reserved, almost saddened.

"I think I understood your reasoning behind this decision, even before you told me just now."

That is all she says, but you know there is so much more to it.

Her eyes glaze over in a haze of temporary remembrance, and you've got to wonder exactly what it is she's reliving in her mind in that moment.

How many times has she wanted to do what you are doing now? To put herself at stake rather than someone else, someone completely innocent?

But her status, her noble birth, and her country would never allow her to put herself in harm's way like that. How many innocent people had been injured or killed in her stead, because she couldn't put herself on the front-lines, or at the barrels of the guns?

She envies you for what you are doing now.

And you know she is only allowing you to do it because it's what she's never been able to do.

She doesn't want you to feel the same guilt she feels – the guilt of staying hidden away somewhere safe while someone else bleeds for you.

She is giving you a blessing, a gift – to put your own life on the line.

It is one of few privileges she's never gotten to experience.

But as much as you understand all of this - all she is doing for you now - you still don't miss the flash of concern in her eyes.

Because you are her dear friend.

You know you would've had no right to think of yourself so highly on your own, but she's said it time and again, until you truly came to believe it yourself. She's told the world upfront that you are her closest companion, told her soldiers that you are her only friend who's never cared about her rank, and she's called you _her_ White Witch.

She loves you dearly – as dearly as you love her.

And therefore, she can't help but be scared about what you are planning to do.

Slowly, she makes her way around the table to your side. You stand right away, but the backs of your knees knock against the chair, causing you to yelp.

You straighten up, only to find your legs are trembling now. She notices, and opens her mouth to once again make the offer, so you might redact your decision to do this yourself.

But you don't want to let her get that far.

"Izetta..."

"Princess! Please allow me to stand for myself! I want to do this, not only for you and for your country, but for myself as well!"

As any loyal subject making a request of the princess should, you throw your head down in a deep and formal bow, eyes squeezed shut.

For a moment, there are only the sounds of the howling winds once again.

Then, two warm arms wrap around your shoulders, coaxing you to straighten yourself up, to stand proudly.

But just before your eyes can meet hers, she pulls you in, effectively hiding her own expression into your shoulder. She sighs with her whole body, squeezing you tightly to her chest. She sounds so tired.

"P-Princess...?"

Initially, you fear she might be unwell somehow.

But you soon come to realize you aren't the only one shaking.

The only thing that ails her now is concern for your safety. She needs you just as badly as you need her.

You don't hesitate a moment longer to circle you arms around the small of her back, pulling her in as close as the limits of your bodies allow. You burrow into the side of her neck, brushing past the thick materials of the trench coat she's wearing until you feel the softness of her skin.

With both of you quivering as you are, it cancels out, until it feels like you are both still.

For a long, long moment, you stay that way with her, breathing her in, feeling her heart beating quickly over yours, wondering if this will be the last time...

Eventually, she gives you one final squeeze and breathes a whisper against the shell of your ear.

"Please be careful."

As you step away, you give the only appropriate answer.

"I will, Princess. I promise."

Extending your arm, you offer her your pinky. It's something you two haven't done in over a decade, not since you were young girls who'd only just met, playing in springtime fields, walking beside autumn lakes, and dancing in winter barns.

She smiles and loops her little finger around yours.

Then, your contact breaks, and she lets you go.

You make it your mission to come back to her, no matter the cost.

* * *

You've done a lot of dangerous things in your life.

But flying on a rifle through an active battlefield where there was constant gun and cannon-fire from live tanks and bloodthirsty enemy soldiers had its perks.

At least you could move. At least you'd had your magics.

But here, in this mountain range where the Lay Lines had run dry many centuries ago, you had nothing but your voice.

As you address the soldiers down below, giving off a guise of power and magic, you can only pray everything goes smoothly and turns out as planned. If even one small thing goes amiss, if even one of those snipers misses her mark, it could all be over.

Standing perfectly still in the face of your enemies might be one of the toughest things you've ever done. They don't know it, but you're entirely defenseless, save from a few skilled snipers concealed within the trees.

Your princess waits anxiously in a tent not far away, and her life is in your hands.

But you of all people, a witch, should know a thing or two about miracles.

You'd never been certain about their possibility until today, when you're certain one must've happened.

Because you _won_.

The mountainside crumbles, crushing the tanks and ranks of enemy men below, showing the world that you are invincible, no matter how much of a farce that is.

When it's over, the snipers reveal themselves, and commend you, as you do the same for them.

The strength suddenly leaves your legs, and you've got to assure the others you're all right before you manage to stand once again.

After that, they lead you back to the tent where the princess is waiting.

The very second you lift the flaps and move them aside to enter, you can see her. She'd been pacing insistently about the closed-in area, probably since the very second you'd left.

Now, she straightens up and whirls around immediately, gasping your name in a voice thick with both worry and relief.

"Izetta!"

She rushes to you instantly, tears already gathering in the corners of her eyes. She reaches out and grasps your hands so tightly it hurts, but it's the best kind of pain you can imagine.

"Princess-"

"Are you all right?" she demands. "I was told it was all a success, but I know it must have been frightening for you to do without your powers."

Her earnest lilac eyes are threatening to spill those tears. You want to do all you can in order to prevent that.

"P-Princess..."

But you can't think of the right words to say.

Hands are trembling, and you can't tell if they're yours or hers. Perhaps both.

But it isn't long before you once again feel the tension and suspense leave your body, draining out of you as though a floodgate has been lifted. Your knees buckle, and you fall to them, causing your princess to cry out in terror.

"Izetta?!" She drops down in front of you, kneeling in the dirt as a princess never should. "Izetta, what's wrong? Are you injured?" Frantically, she grasps at your hands once again, her eyes flicking nervously over your person, seeking out any potential open wounds.

It's all you can do to try and configure your voice to reassure her.

"N-No! I'm unharmed, Princess. Nothing's wrong. I-I'm just... so relieved it's come to an end. I'm so _relieved_..."

Even though you've seen the water in her eyes since the second you walked in, you're the one who starts shedding tears first. Sniffling, the little hiccups start to bubble up in the back of your throat, and you bow your head in embarrassment.

"F-Forgive me... for showing such an unbecoming side of myself..."

But she makes you understand there's nothing to forgive, for no crime has been committed.

She wraps you in her arms and pulls you close, letting out a breath that you can tell takes a great weight of stress with it.

"What have I told you before?" she murmurs into your shoulder. "Do not be ashamed of your tears, Izetta. Your honesty is just one of the _many_ things I love about you."

Her words make you weak, weaker than you've ever felt before.

When you're crying and crawling through the dirt, she is shielding you with both arms spread wide, shouting in your defense all while she ignores the blood pooling at her side.

When you're collapsing even though you aren't the slightest bit hurt, she is covering you in her presence and telling you it's okay.

She always makes you feel so pitifully weak, because she is so undeniably strong.

And when she tells you that she loves you, that's always the final straw.

You break down and begin to wail like a newborn in her arms, sobbing and clinging tightly to her, choking out her title in between caterwauls. She holds you firmly, whispering your name, fighting back sobs of her own.

Even in your weakest times, she gives you half her strength, until you can stand on your own once more, be it in a figurative sense or a literal one.

She holds you, comforts you, pets through your hair and all down your back, assuring you everything's going to be all right.

And when she says it, you truly believe it, from the bottom of your heart.

* * *

 **A/N: Clearly, the anime seems to have other ideas... But I'm always praying for a happy, (gay) ending!**

 **Please review!**


	5. A Place Of Refuge

**Another story from me, follows episode 7 (and what a great episode it was). I'm disappointed we didn't see a Fine/Izetta reunion at the end of that episode, and I'm not sure if ep8 will pick up directly from there. So I'm writing my own version.**

 **Sticking to my usual style in Izetta's POV.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

* * *

A Place Of Refuge

If it were ever made possible for anyone else to get inside your thoughts, you know they'd proclaim you have a one-track mind.

Your princess truly is the one thing you think about above all others.

You think of her most frequently, most seriously, and most passionately.

Even when you'd been in deep slumber, held down by the powers of drugs and restraints, she'd been all you'd thought about. Because it had been her voice, her presence, and her recognition to wake you.

Even when you were flitting through enemy tanks, planes, and ships on the battlefield, she was all you'd think about. Because it was always your promises to her that would fuel you to keep going, to continue fighting until you'd done what you'd sworn you would do for her.

And of course, on quiet nights, when all seemed right with the world just for a few hours, she was all you thought about. Whether you happened to be sharing her bed for the evening or not, she was never out of your mind for longer than a moment.

Even now, as you ride back from a marginally-victorious battle at the enemy's carrier on the wing of a friendly plane, she is all that's on your mind.

You're covered in cuts and bruises from the premature detonation of the first torpedo, and you feel like you could slide off the plane at any given second. But you straighten your back, tighten your hold on the wing and on your mount, trying to focus on what lies ahead.

Not future battles or instances of potential jeopardy.

But _her_.

You know she's waiting for you.

When your plane had taken off just an hour ago, you'd watched her, standing there with one hand on her hair and the other over her heart, fierce determination and even fiercer worry in her eyes.

You know she's terrified for you right now. She always is, especially when you go out on these missions alone.

You briefly recall the last time you'd done this, on the mountainside with the snipers. When you'd finally returned to your princess, she'd collapsed with relief just as you had, equally as drained by joy as she'd been by terror at the fact that you might never have come home.

And you recall memories of last night, alone together in the same bed, your hands wrapped tightly, warmly together. Her eyes had shaken then, trembled with guilt as she'd voiced her concerns of asking too much of you.

After that quiet conversation, you'd spent the rest of the night in her arms, with your own hands covering every inch of her slender back.

That was just one of many reasons you'd fought so hard today. Because you wanted to feel that warmth again tonight.

And now you can.

As the plane ascends, you watch the scenery around you shift from streaks of cloud to streaks of forested green.

Far below, you can see the trucks that had transported you here only an hour earlier. The people on the ground are mostly indistinguishable from this height.

All except for one.

You can see her, long blonde hair swaying from side to side as she paces back and forth.

You can imagine she's doing her best not to bite her knuckles, to stay composed despite her doubts. You're aware that Groman has radioed the good news to them, and she knows you're all right. But still, she paces insistently, unwilling to believe anything until she's seen it for herself.

Silently, you urge the pilots to descend a little more quickly, so you can rush into her arms and provide the same comfort for her as she'd give to you. You can fly down yourself much more quickly and directly, but you don't want to risk overusing your powers after a battle like that one.

So you wait.

Wait.

Wait...

Until the plane lowers itself enough to roll across the open fields and at last comes to a halt.

You jump down, swaying from the landing, leaning on the gun for support. You're dizzy, understandably so, and you need a moment to collect yourself. Your skin is aching from the burns, and your vision blurs more often than you're comfortable with. You'd like to have a moment to dust yourself off first so you can at least be presentable to her.

But she's already running, as quickly as she can possibly move. The wind from the still-spinning propellers blasts her hair and dress back, but she runs against it regardless, shouting your name.

"Izetta!"

As it always seems to do, it gives you new strength when she calls you. You stagger a step forward, still using the gun as a crutch.

"Princess..."

You stumble just as she reaches you, but she's there to catch you in her waiting arms, clinging tightly to your back.

"Izetta!" She gasps in alarm and relief and a million other different emotions all at once.

And you just want to fall asleep right here and now, in her arms, like this...

But the sudden tight contact aggravates your burns, and you can't stop an inadvertent cry of pain from slipping out.

"Ah-!"

And right away, you're aware of your blunder.

The princess gasps again, pulling herself away instantly, only holding you up with the bare minimum of contact.

"Izetta! You're hurt!" Before you can even find the breath to counter her, she's turning her head and calling out over her shoulder. "She's injured! Bring the medic!" She then turns back to you, her eyes already filling with water. "I'm so sorry, Izetta. I did this-"

"P-Princess!"

You blurt out her title, begging her not to continue with this, knowing every second of your silence that passes now will be another internal blow she deals herself out of guilt. You want to stay composed, but the threat of her tears encourages your own, and soon they begin to overflow.

"Princess... it's not like that..."

But another sway in your step doesn't help to prove your case, nor do the tears.

She whimpers, having no choice but to follow you to the ground. The gun clatters nearby, somewhere unimportant as your knees buckle along with hers. You hate that you've brought her to her knees once again, staining her clothes with dirt.

"Princess... your clothes... I'm so messy..."

"You fool!" she snaps with a vehemence to match her concern. "Who cares about the dirt? You're injured!"

"It's not as bad as it looks, Princess! I promise!"

She sniffles as the winds finally die down. Now that you're both on your knees, she realizes she doesn't have a right or reason to hold onto you anymore. So she withdraws her hands, pulling them back into her own lap.

The way she moves, the way she whimpers...

It's like she's punishing herself.

"I'm sorry... I hurt you-"

"Princess, you're mistaken!" You shake your head vigorously, which probably isn't a good idea right now, but you can't care less about the headache. You turn your eyes back to hers, ridden unnecessarily with guilt and grief. "Princess, you didn't hurt me! It's okay! Please, I..."

Another swell of tears comes up, and you're powerless to stop it. Like a frightened child, you lift up your arms towards her, hoping she'll understand what you can't say.

Of course she does. She knows you better than you know yourself sometimes.

She's wanted this too; she's just been too scared of hurting you.

But now, since you're telling her it's okay, she doesn't hesitate a second longer.

"Oh... Izetta..."

She reaches out to you, draping her arms ever so gently across your shoulders and around your back. Slowly, carefully, she pulls you in, never putting too much pressure on your aching muscles and sore skin.

It's all you can do not to burst out into tears, since you're well-aware of the other people starting to surround you now.

So you burrow into the side of her neck and cling to her sides, curling your nails into the fabrics of her dress so tightly you fear they might get stuck.

It's a brief embrace, but it's enough for now.

You just hope she doesn't feel guilty about hurting you. She already has far too many things to grieve over. You don't want to be one of them.

At this point, the medics have arrived, and they quite literally need to pry you off of her, gentle as it is. But once she's away from you, you have no reason to stay awake.

Blackness sweeps over your eyes and through your mind, until it's all that's left.

* * *

The first thing to register in your mind now is softness.

It's all around you, supporting your aching back and your pounding head. You're grateful for that, and for the fact that it's warm.

You don't open your eyes yet, but you know you're inside now, because no cold winds are blasting you from all around, and the only thing you hear is silence.

After a few seconds, you realize there is one more sound.

One that's familiar, probably more familiar than it should be, but you know it nonetheless.

It's next to inaudible, but the fact that you can hear her breathing means she's close by.

Her pattern of breath is one unique in your mind, affixed only to her. You've learned by now how her exhales are slightly longer than her inhales. She never takes in more than she needs to, and she always lets out more than she has to. Just like in everything else she does.

The motivation to see her again flares up inside you, and you struggle to open your eyes. When you do, you find yourself looking up at a familiar pale ceiling, purple walls, soft lamplight...

You're back in the same room you'd slept in last night, on the very same bed, in the very same nightgown.

You don't realize it when a small, tired sound works its way up the back of your throat, but she must've. The tome she'd been reading is quickly shut and put aside as she gasps deeply, fretfully turning to you.

"Izetta?"

Her voice is a desperate whisper, and from it, you can tell she must've been waiting anxiously for hours on end. You can't help but feel guilty for having kept her waiting, since the atmosphere in the room tells you it must be late at night now.

Moaning weakly, you do you best to push yourself up on your elbows, but even that much makes you wince.

"Princess..."

"Izetta! You shouldn't try to move!"

Hurriedly, she leans over you, gently trapping you in place.

Her actions freeze you like a frigid wind, though a contrastingly fervent heat rushes up to your face. She's as beautiful as ever, but perhaps even a bit more charming in her nightgown, with her luscious hair all down in its glory, her pale skin highlighted in a golden, diaphanous glow.

You forget how to speak for a moment, and she must interpret it as distress from the pain on your part, because her voice tangles with concern.

"A-Are you in pain? Where does it hurt most? Tell me."

"P-Princess!"

From beneath her, you look up beseechingly into her fretful eyes. She looks as though she's about to bolt, like a frightened deer. She's panicked, fearful, still ridden with guilt.

You're able enough now to put your bashfulness aside. After all, you'd both slept quite intimately the night before, enough for you to muster up some semblance of confidence with her now.

You sit up without wincing this time, all on your own.

"Princess. I assure you, I'm all right."

Her jaw hangs slack for a moment in disbelief, her hands outstretched, but not knowing what to do. Her voice is weak, and her eyes threaten water.

"You... Your injuries..."

You give an experimental shrug, turning your head to both sides to stretch out your neck.

"They're fine! I don't feel any pain from the burns. A little soreness is all that ails me now, Princess. I promise. I'm all right."

But she isn't. You can see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice, taste it on her breath.

"Izetta..."

She leans back against the headboard and the propped-up pillows, as if all the strength has left her body. She pulls her knees up to her chest and hides her face there to weep.

You jolt upright in a fluster.

"P-Princess! What's the matter?"

You can't bear to see her in tears. You never could, and you know you would never be able to. Especially when they were tears of pain and sorrow.

You want to hold her, more than _anything_. But you don't want to make the assumption that she's weak enough to require your comforts.

So you settle for sitting there like a confused puppy, whimpering.

"Princess... Princess, please don't cry..."

But she doesn't seem to hear you, or if she does, she doesn't have the power to heed your pleas. Because her tears don't stop, and that means yours start.

Helplessly, you sidle closer, inch by inch.

"Princess...?"

Now that you're crying too, you can justify contact with her. It won't be because you feel _she_ needs the comfort, but because _you_ need it from her.

If you both end up benefitting, then it's all the better.

Carefully, as not to alarm her, you rest one arm across her back, over her silken hair. It's extremely soft and smooth, to the point you know she must've been brushing it excessively, and almost compulsively in her worried state.

The other arm you slip across the front of her shoulders and collar, coaxing her away from her knees just a little. You bow your head against the nap of her neck, swallowing thickly as you sob into her nightgown.

"Princess... it's okay..."

This time, you don't ask her not to cry. You realize how unfair that is of you. She's never asked that of you.

In fact, she's always told you how much she admires your honesty and your expression of your feelings. It's not right for you to ask her to keep everything bottled up, as you know she's already forced herself to do for so many years.

You don't want to see her upset. But if the tears are an outlet for all of the pain and grief she's suffered through in the past, quietly and alone, you'll accept them.

So you curl over her back, holding her close, nestling into her.

For a long while, you let one another cry, as much as you can, though it may never be as much as you need to.

By the time things have finally quieted down, you feel immensely better. You lift your head and help her straighten up, expecting her to put on a smile just as you're doing.

But it's clear to you right away that you're the only one who's come out of this relieved.

There is absolute misery in her eyes, in her posture. You can tell it's pumping through her veins, molesting her heart. She can barely look at you for a second before her shoulders hunch forward and she bows her head again.

"Izetta... I'm so sorry..."

She's needlessly apologized too many times already. It's not fair.

"Princess! I promise you I'm okay! There's no need for you to-"

"But there is!" she cries. She flashes her eyes up to yours, and you can see for yourself just how perturbed she is. More tears spill down her cheeks as she begins to tremble all over again.

Your smile fades, and you slowly shake your head.

"Princess, no... please... don't blame yourself-"

"But I am the _only_ one to blame!" She chokes on another sob, causing a harsh cough to wretch its way up her throat. She slams a palm to her mouth to cover it, and her entire body shakes.

You don't think as you reach out to hold her once again, pulling her into a desperate embrace, running your hands all up and down her back.

Over and over again, you chant her name between strings of what you hope to be comforting words as though they're prayers.

"Princess... it's okay... _it's okay._.."

Before long, she's too weak to sit up anymore, too ridden with guilt to lift her face enough to meet your eyes. With all the care in the world, you lie her down as though she's made of glass, fearing even the mattress could shatter her at any given second.

You curl up beside her, just as you'd done last night, except then she hadn't been crying.

You hold onto her hand for a moment, but it's not enough. You reach out, timidly tracing your fingertips through her bangs, then down the length of her hair over the rise of her shoulder, down the dip of her side, and back up to her hip, all the while repeating her title.

"Princess... Princess..."

At last, you cave and bring her in close again.

You've lost count of how many times you've done this for her, held her as she's cried tears she'd never deserved to suffer.

You hold her until she's cried herself dry, until her body is too exhausted even to tremble anymore. You fear anything you say might make it start all over again, so you keep quiet, simply combing your fingers through her hair and down her back, cradling her, letting her hide in your neck.

After a long while of this - of mapping new patterns over her sides, of pressing the creases of your palms over her shoulder blades until you're certain they are tattooed there - she finally finds her voice again.

"Izetta... we should stop this..."

Her statement is so unexpected, so shocking, that you barely have time to think it through before your body reacts.

Instantly, you release her, pushing yourself back and away, yelping apologies.

"I-I'm so sorry! I-I didn't ask for your consent, Princess-!"

But when she looks up at you, there is confusion and a terrible hurt in her eyes, worse than any you've ever seen there before. Her lips part just as fresh trails of tears leak down over them.

"I... that wasn't what I'd meant..."

It takes you a moment to register her words. That it wasn't the physical contact she'd wanted to put an end to. That it wasn't your relationship she disfavored.

You reaction is nothing short of a complete rejection of her feelings, and she looks as though you've just dealt her a physical blow, more devastating than anything else she's ever suffered before.

" _Oh_..."

You feel truly nauseous, acid burning in the back of your throat from the rush of guilt that boils through you.

"P-Princess, I-I'd thought you-"

Choking, you're forced to close your eyes from how quickly and vengefully the tears are falling once more.

You feel like you really might be sick. To have hurt her in such a way.

But she must've realized her blunder, too. She must've realized what's happened.

Because she reaches out to you once again, brushing her pale, quivering fingers on your knee, gaining back your full attention. Her face is drenched with tears, but a wobbly smile is fighting its way to her lips.

"Izetta..."

She doesn't say it, but somehow you understand the miscommunication just now, and you understand it's forgiven.

You collapse back into her arms, caterwauling hard, loudly enough to make your own ears hurt.

"Princess! I-I'm so sorry! I'd th-thought you'd wanted to s-stop... to stop what we, wh-what I... I'd thought _that_ was what you'd wanted, s-so I-!"

"I know..." she whispers. "I realized it too late, Izetta. I'm sorry. That's... not what I'd meant at all. It's not... it's not our relationship I was talking about ending... not this..."

She squeezes you ever tighter, and you nod into her shoulder.

"R-Right! I-I didn't w-want to end it either, b-but I'd thought that's what you'd wanted s-s-so I-"

"I know," she breathes again. "And you were so quick to put an end to it, since you thought that's what I'd meant. You didn't hesitate for a second to stop if it meant it would make me feel better. You were... so terrified, thinking you'd done something to hurt me. I'm sorry I mis-spoke and caused you so much pain. Even if it was only momentary, I can tell how much it hurt you."

"N-No... Princess, I'm sorry I misinterpreted you... that I reacted before you could finish speaking..."

"Of course not. I understand now how it must have sounded to you, Izetta." She caresses you cheek with her palm, letting you lean into it. "But I want you to hear it from me, in a way no one can mistake it. I don't want to stop being with you, Izetta. Not unless you do."

Vigorously, you shake your head.

"Never! I don't want to be apart from you, either! Not unless you would wish it, Princess!"

She breathes a long sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness. It's the same for both of us, then." She swallows thickly, then dips her face back into your collar. "I'm sorry, Izetta. I didn't mean to-"

"M-Me, neither..." you croak. "I didn't mean to... seem as though I were rejecting your feelings, Princess. I would never... unless I were hurting you somehow."

"I know you would never intentionally do such a thing, Izetta. I know that. Thank you..."

The moment of panic had been brief, but so intense for the both of you, you were equally as shaken by it, and equally as relieved that it had passed and ended on a healing note.

It takes you both a few minutes to recover from it, though.

There is still a gnarled, acidic feeling in the pit of your stomach, though it's slowly beginning to unwind now. You hate to think she's feeling the same dreadful discomfort because of how you'd reacted to her.

Gently, you slip one hand down over her upturned side, which just so happens to be her right. You pause, resting your palm over the scar you know to be directly beneath her nightgown. Her breathing quickens just a little, as though your touching it has drawn up the memories of how she'd received it. But soon, she relaxes again, and you do the same.

For a time, you both simply breathe together, getting your bearings back after the mutual mishap.

But you soon come to realize you don't know what she'd actually meant when she'd mentioned stopping 'this'.

Slowly, you shift yourself back a little, until you can see her face once more. Streaks of tears have formed countless rivulets, and you can't stop yourself from reaching out to brush your index finger over them.

She looks so tired, and not just in the sense that she's lacking sleep. You've seen her this way before, and you don't like it.

"Princess...?" You continue to rub gently over her scar, feeling her uneven breath fanning out against your collar. "What is it... that you want to stop...?"

When she speaks next, she makes sure to meet your eyes.

"Izetta... I... I can't keep putting you through this. I can't keep asking you to... to put your life in danger for me and for my country. It isn't right."

You'd had a feeling it was something like this. If she'd made it clear that she hadn't been asking you to end your relationship with her, what else could it have been but this?

You shake your head, wearing a small smile.

"Princess. I've told you many times that I don't mind-"

"But _I_ do."

She says this with a firmness that's strong enough to silence you, not in a harsh way, but in a manner that tells you she's thought this through so hard and for so long that she deserves to be heard on the matter. So you purse your lips and force yourself to listen as she goes on.

"Izetta... I don't want to keep putting you in danger like this. I've already done so far too many times, and I have no right to. You owe me nothing. You're not in my debt. And I don't want you to feel obligated to do anything for me, especially anything as dangerous as the things I've been asking of you. It isn't right. I shouldn't even have let it get this far. Today just made me realize that..."

Her eyes seem to tremble with emotion, with how much feeling and meaning she's putting into these words.

She doesn't mean to say that your getting injured today took away any of her faith in your abilities. You understand that quite clearly.

But she's come to think she's been taking advantage of you, and that is something she can't bear to accept.

You squeeze her hand, threading your fingers in between hers.

"Princess. You're mistaken. I _do_ owe you. I owe you my _life_. Because you saved mine."

But she shakes her head, as though she'd been expecting this response.

"No. Izetta, _you're_ mistaken. You don't owe me anything; _especially_ not your life. I didn't help you all those years ago... just so you would be in my debt..." Again, the tears begin to pour down her cheeks, forming a damp spot on her pillow.

"I did it... because you were my dear friend... You still are. Which is why, I can't allow you to keep putting yourself in danger like this..."

Her words weave around your heart like a warm summer breeze.

Not many things make you happier than to hear her say how much you mean to her, and to know she means every word from the bottom of her heart.

That feeling is topped only by the feeling of lying together with her without a care, someplace safe.

But you can't relish the feeling for long, because there's something you absolutely need to set straight.

"Princess, forgive me. I mis-spoke again. I didn't mean to imply that I'm only helping you fight out of obligation for your saving my life. That isn't the only reason why I'm doing this.

"I... I'm doing it for your country and for your people... because they are _yours_. I'm doing it... for _you_. I'm doing it... because I want to. Because I..."

You suck in a sharp breath, finding the right word difficult to say.

"Because I cherish you... _so much_ , my Princess..."

The word wasn't exactly the right one, but it was certainly still the truth. You hope that she knows that.

The look in her eyes tells you she does.

She sniffles, wiping her eyes with one hand before draping it across your shoulders.

"It's... the same for me, Izetta. I cherish you as well. You are a dear friend, and so much more. I never wanted you to... to feel forced to fight for me. I never wanted it to be a requirement or an obligation for you. I never want you to feel as though you're... just a weapon for me to _use_. Because you aren't, Izetta. _You're so much more_..."

Again, she loses herself to her tears, closing her eyes and burying her face into her pillow. Her shoulders begin to shudder again, and her entire body follows suit.

You whimper to her again, moving closer to hug her tightly.

"No, Princess... I never once... never for a _second_ thought of it that way. Never. I know you would never consider me as just a tool for war. I don't want you to ever think that I might. I'm not so faithless. I trust you with my life, and I know you will always respect that as strongly as I respect you."

This isn't just a relationship of high class and subserviency any longer. The two of you are equals, and no matter how difficult it is for you to accept that, you're doing your absolute best to understand that's how it has to be in order for this kind of relationship to thrive and flourish.

Sighing, you rest your chin on her shoulder, taking in the scent of her freshly-washed hair, smelling faintly of shampoo berries.

She shakes in your arms, clinging to your back, her chest jolting from a barrage of hiccups. You can feel her heart thumping thickly against your collar, multiple poignant emotions sweeping up and crashing over her.

You hold her as she cries, knowing she's probably needed to, but also too, knowing that she's done this far too many times recently – far too many _more_ times than she'd ever deserve.

You can't help but blame yourself for it, though you know she'd never want you to.

Once more, you cajole her, assuaging the pain in both voice and in action as you hold her close. A few minutes pass before you hear a soft sound from her, almost like a chuckle.

"Even now..." she sighs. "Even now... you shield me..."

Whether she means emotionally, physically, or both, you're unsure.

You don't know what to say. You don't know what else you can do to make this better.

But before you can make an effort, you feel her pull away, just far enough to seek your eyes. Her smile is small and tired, but it's there, and it makes you feel a little better.

"Izetta... do you truly mean what you've said? It's not that I don't trust your words, I simply... have trouble accepting it."

This time, you don't hesitate, not even for a second.

"I mean it, Princess! Nothing I've done for you thus far has been solely out of feelings of obligation. It's more so because I care for you, and I never want to see you or your country in such peril or at such risk. I want to help you. Because you're my dearest and only friend, whom I love with all my heart!"

You didn't take the time to censor yourself that time, nor did you try to. Because she deserves to know the truth about how you feel towards her. You don't want to hold back anymore.

Evidently, neither does she.

"Izetta..." She brings you close once more, tracing her fingertips over your shoulders and arms, her touch seeming to heal the sore skin on the spot. "My White Witch, and my dearest friend... I love you, too. Whatever we do, Izetta, I want us to be together. I don't want you to feel... like you're alone in all of this. And should you ever... _ever_ want to withdraw, to stop all of this... you must tell me. _Please_."

You hug her tighter and nod into her shoulder.

"I will, Princess. I promise you that. But I don't want to stop. Not until you and your country are entirely safe."

"...I don't know if that will ever be possible. But thank you, Izetta. Your kind words mean so much..."

You feel a small, light kiss at the shell of your ear and instinctively tense. But it's not long before you relax against her, nuzzling into her nightgown and closing your eyes.

Silence falls, and once again you listen to her breathing, feeling it for yourself how she draws in each breath briefly, then lets it out extensively. You feel the tension leave her body as well, and you are more than content to just fall asleep and let her rest now.

But her mind is still troubled, as it always seemed to be. You hear her sniffle once again, feel the dampness of her tears against your neck.

"You know..." she whispers. "I shouldn't be saying this... I shouldn't... even be _thinking_ it.. It's horrible for me to think, as the Archduchess of Eylstadt... but sometimes, I just want... to run away... to go somewhere else. To seek refuge, with you at my side, and you alone. I'd never want to... abandon my people nor my country, but sometimes I just-"

You don't even think this time as you hush her with a kiss, pressing your lips over hers.

She gasps softly, but never draws away, nor does she push you back.

You never would've done such a thing had you not known for certain she would be all right with it, and it's clear to you that she is.

She kisses you back, just once, then rests her head completely on the pillow. Her lilac eyes bore into yours, shimmering, shining. You swallow, finding your mouth rather dry, but you feel the need to tell her the truth as well.

"Me, too, Princess. Sometimes... I feel the same way. I want to escape. To run away with you... So we can have days like before... going to town and eating pie without a care in the world..."

She nods, inviting you to continue.

"But... I know we can't. We won't just abandon everyone. So that's why... I want to make _Eylstadt_ our escape. I want to make this our safe haven, where we can be happy together for the rest for our lives. I'll do anything to see that dream come true."

The hand that has long-since been entwined with hers is squeezed once again.

"Yes," she breathes. "It's the same for me. I will do anything for that dream."

Though the two of you say 'anything', you both understand the implied meaning behind it:

' _Anything that won't put_ you _at risk._ '

The two of you have always been on the same wavelength, and now is no different.

You sigh as her hands continue to caress your skin and back, playing idly with your hair.

Tentatively, you do the same for her, confident in the fact that she's more than content to have you do so.

As you stroke your fingers through her hair and all down her back, she seems to relax more and more by the second, as do you.

Once again, silence leaks into the room, encouraging sleep.

But then, without warning, she suddenly gasps, jolting in your arms with a squeal.

"Eee!"

Alarmed, you pull away, eyes wide with shock.

"P-Princess? What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"A-Ahh... I'm sorry, it's nothing," she replies, fighting off a smile. "Nothing at all."

You can detect the playful glint in her eyes now, the mischievous tone in her voice.

You quickly realize you've stumbled upon one of your princess' _soft spots_.

"Oh?" The playful mood is contagious, particularly after such a heavy one has lifted. "Are you sure it's nothing, Princess?"

Once again, you run your fingers up her spine, causing her to jolt again.

"I-Izetta!"

Being with her for so long has begun to make you bold. So with the potential promise of gaining her smile back right on the horizon, you take action.

"Take _that!_ "

You enact your revenge as you pounce on her softly, wiggling your fingers all up and down her back, sides, and stomach.

She shrieks aloud and thrashes beneath you, her girlish giggles spreading throughout the room in a matter of seconds.

"A-An ambush!" she cries. "A surprise attack!"

She laughs heartily, doing her best to fend you off, but the element of surprise is on your side.

You pin her down as gently as is possible as you continue tickling her, laughing when she laughs. You've never heard such lovely sounds before in all your life. Her giggles are unbridled, yet somehow still sophisticated, ladylike.

At least in the beginning.

But after a few minutes of this, her laughter has doubled up on itself, until she's unable to speak or fight back at all.

Last night, you never would have dreamed of tickling her in retaliation.

But after the harrowing day you've both had today, and after the intimate, private conversations you've just shared, you're confident enough to try it. There's nothing to lose, and her happiness to gain.

And she certainly isn't opposed.

If it brings her joy - if it makes her laugh, if it allows her to forget her troubles for just a few short minutes - it's more than worth it.

You tickle her until there are new tears in her eyes, tears that are much better than the ones that had stained her face previously.

Only when she's having trouble catching her breath do you relent, slowly moving off to one side of her to lie down once again. She turns onto her side to face you, still giggling and panting.

"Izetta... you sly girl..."

She opens up her arms and pulls you in close, and you happily do the same. She rolls onto her back, pulling you on top of her, cradling your head to her chest.

You wait patiently, quietly as she catches her breath, closing your eyes and snuggling into the crook of her neck.

Her breathing is much more labored now than it usually is, but it's threaded with tiny fragments of laughter. For once, she's taking in what she needs, and not an ounce less.

Her heart thrums quickly beneath your ear, still at a heightened pulse from the vigorous bout of activity.

You lie there over her, rubbing gently all up and down her sides as she begins to calm down. It's a shame her smooth hair has gotten a bit tangled, but you think the sacrifice is worth the results of her merriment, no matter how short-lived it might be.

She hugs you close, still laughing softly to herself, and you can't help but do the same.

"Princess... you're so lovely..."

You hadn't really intended to say the latter part out loud, but you hope it's quiet enough to be drowned out against her panting breaths.

Her response is nothing but ambiguous hum.

"Mmm..."

You don't want to risk saying anything else embarrassing, so you shut your lips and stay still, listening to her heartbeat.

You wait until her pulse begins to slow and her breathing deepens.

But eventually, the events of the long, physically-exhausting day and the emotionally-draining evening catch up to you both.

You can't find the strength to open your eyes again, so you simply grow still while still using her chest as your pillow.

"Princess... I love you..."

You're fading fast, though there's so much more you want to say.

But for now, perhaps this is enough.

You hear her giggle one last time, then sigh.

"I love you too, Izetta."

You feel a soft kiss on the top of your head before she secures her hug around you.

Tomorrow, the two of you will continue to fight.

To strive towards a future where you can both escape to someplace, safe and sound.

A future where that place would be right here, in each other's arms.

Without a care in the world.

* * *

 **A/N: I feel Izetta is always going to be a bit shy around Fine no matter what, but that it'll begin to lessen as they grow closer and more intimate/comfortable with one another.**

 **At first, she's extremely nervous and bashful, always blushing and stammering. But after a time, once they've established their deep-rooted feelings for one another, Izetta will become a little bolder, a little surer, and she won't be scared to do things like kiss Fine by surprise.**

 **Of course, these are just personal headcanons. I don't really expect to ever see it in the show, sadly...**

 **Please review!**


	6. From Dawn To Dusk

**All right, so here's how this one is gonna work. I'd been wanting to do a sick fic for them for a while now, and ChuckleBrotherz actually commissioned me for the same idea, so I figured I'd do it this week. I started writing it about an hour before episode 8 aired, only to see Izetta had actually caught a cold in the anime, too.**

 **So I decided to keep my fic, but simply expand upon it a lot more. This story is going to be Fine dealing with Izetta's cold beforehand, and will lead up to that oh so brief little teaser of cute fluff we got at the beginning of episode 8.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

* * *

From Dawn To Dusk

Most mornings that you can remember, you've woken up anxious and uncertain, as though the morning light were more unsettling than the darkness of night.

So long as you can find a safe place to fall asleep, you'll always be eager to.

At the very least, sleep is a form of refuge, simply because you're not able to experience the fears and doubts that comes along with conscious, daily life.

As such, waking had used to be something you dreaded, because you never knew what kind of heartbreak and horrors the coming day would bear.

Only in recent weeks had you started to learn how to begin loving the act of waking up.

Because in recent weeks, you hadn't been waking up alone anymore.

Your princess always does her best to conjure up different ways to spoil you, anything from taking you out to town for a slice of pie to dressing you in fine clothing fit only for royalty.

But you'd always believe one of the biggest, most significant privileges you experience to be sharing her bed at night. That was second only to being within her presence.

Ever since you've started sleeping at her side, sharing her pillow, with your bare legs tangled innocently with hers amongst your nightgowns and sheets, the feeling of her soft form, the scent of her silken hair, the sound of her quiet breathing...

You've begun to enjoy the act of waking.

A sudden cease in the Germanians' retaliation efforts has left Eylstadt in an almost disbelieving state of temporary peace. The enemies have only been quiet for about two days now, which is just long enough to give your princess' kingdom some much needed time to catch its breath. However, should it persist for very much longer, the Germanians' silence would start to become suspicious.

But for now, at least for another day or so, you should be able to enjoy this.

As soon as you're able to open your eyes, you cast them sideways to the space where you know your princess will be lying, still in slumber.

Those expectations hold true like a promise.

She is there, with her back turned to you for the time being, a thick screen of luscious golden hair catching in the sunlight that leaks in past the curtains. The royal purple of her nightgown matches your own, the fabrics of which are overlapping, given how intimate your proximity is.

It's been over a week now since you've been sleeping together with her regardless of your location. Despite that, you're still shy to get too close to her, especially if she's not awake to grant permission.

But she's told you time and again that you're allowed to do as you will, even if she's not awake to approve of it.

You can't help yourself. You just want to be close to her.

So, with meticulous slowness, you shift closer to her slender back, where the curves of her shoulder blades are visible against the purple material. Shaking the stiffness from your arms, you reach out, fingertips brushing so lightly against her hair that there is barely any contact at all.

Idly, you begin to thread just a few strands of her hair, curling and uncurling it, ensuring no knots are formed.

But now that you are roused and awake enough, you notice for the first time that something is off.

There is a light stuffiness in your nose, and a mild congestion in your chest. It feels like a slight prickling of static inside your collar, and when you manually try to inhale a breath, it's heavy and highly unpleasant.

Your shifting about has drawn your attention to the fact that you feel a little warmer than you know you should, given the fact that the blankets are halfway down your hip and the nightgown is light and loose.

You don't know what's wrong, but you know for certain that something isn't as it should be.

You've never gotten sick before, since your magics tend to protect you from such things, on some basic, organic level.

But you also know all too well that there's a first time for everything. And if you truly are unwell, your main priority is to ensure it doesn't spread to your princess.

Hastily, you uncurl the strands of her hair from around your fingers, intent to turn yourself away before the itch in your nose results with the inevitable.

But you're not quick enough, and just before you can bury your face into your elbow, a petite sneeze shocks its way through your body and out of your lips. Whimpering, you curl in on yourself, praying you haven't woken her.

But a stirring and soft rustling of the bedsheets tells you it's too late.

You peek up past your bangs as she slowly pushes herself up, long locks of her tresses slipping all down and over her back, cascading like tiny waves to pool at her hip as she sits herself up. Tired moans work their way up the back of her throat as she rubs her knuckles over her eyes, stretching just a bit.

You feel guilty for waking her, but hearing her voice still raspy with sleep makes you far more happy than you care to admit.

"Mmn... good morning, Izetta."

You scramble for the sheets and yank them up to your mouth, muffling your voice, giving it an excuse to sound congested.

"I'm sorry, Princess. I didn't mean to wake you..."

"Don't be silly. I'm glad I didn't end up sleeping the day away. Even if the Germanians have been quiet, there's a lot of work to be done." She makes a fist to show her determination, and you can't help but smile behind the sheets.

"Princess..."

She smiles for a second longer, but then it fades, concern making its way into her eyes and onto her expression.

"Izetta, are you cold?"

"A-Ahhh n-not really!"

"You're flushed again, just like last night."

"Eh-!"

You squeak and recoil into the sheets as she leans over you, reaching down towards your face. You quickly roll over to avoid her touch.

"I-I'm fine, Princess! You don't need to worry yourself!"

But of course, saying that only makes her worry even more.

"Izetta..."

A gentle hand is placed on your shoulder, coaxing, not demanding. Your tense form gradually relaxes as you let out a sigh. You'd hoped to keep this a secret for just a little while.

But she knows you far too well, possibly better than you know yourself. She knows when something's amiss, and you have no right to worry her by keeping the truth hidden.

So you relent, rolling over onto your back once more, though you still cling to the sheets and hide beneath them as far up as your mouth.

She looks you over, her lips pursed in a tight line as her fingers comb your bangs aside. Sweat clings to your forehead, but her cool fingers against your warm skin feel like inhaling a crisp breath of fresh air in an otherwise stuffy room. It quite literally allows you to breathe a little easier.

You close your eyes as she caresses your face, savoring the contact, the feeling of her fingers gracing your burning temples.

She traces from your cheeks to your chin, stroking each side of your face a few times before ultimately returning to your forehead. Here, she turns her hand over, resting her knuckles in place for a moment. You squeeze your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for what's to come.

But no matter how many times you anticipate she's about to blame herself for something she has no control over, it's never easy to actually hear the words straight from her mouth.

"Izetta..." Her voice trembles, and her hand does the same. "It's because of yesterday... what I made you do..."

Your eyes fly open and you quickly shake your head, regretting the latter action instantly as you feel an ache in your skull. But you manage to shoot her an imploring look, and reach up with both hands to grab hers, bringing it to your chest.

"You're mistaken, Princess! This isn't your fault!" You all but wail as you clutch her hand over your heart, refusing to let her go. Your eyes are earnest and your words are honest; you can't allow her to start blaming herself again, especially not after last night. Things had ended well then, and you want them to continue that way. "Princess," you insist. "It's nothing serious! And it isn't your fault at all! Please don't be upset!"

As your fingers curl around her hand, you can faintly detect the pulse in her wrist, where it beats over your own. She looks miserable, a drastic contrast to the smile she'd just worn. It's almost as though she's caught herself being happy and has reverted back to punishing herself by means of correction, and taking the blame for things unnecessarily.

But perhaps she's remembering what you told her last night, or perhaps the honesty in your eyes is convincing her. Because she sighs, but allows the smile to return. Her voice is small, but it sounds as though she's willing to forgive herself, just this once.

"...Even so, it's my responsibility to take care of you. And if you've fallen ill under my watch, then it's my responsibility to ensure you get better."

"B-But, Princess," you protest. "You shouldn't stay around me any longer than you already have overnight. I-I don't want you to get sick as well! W-What if- eep-!"

You flinch and close you eyes again as she uses her free hand to cup the side of your face. Instinctively, you squeeze her other hand with both of yours, and she squeezes back.

"Izetta. I'm going to look after you, no matter what. So there's no use in trying to stop me."

"B-But if _you_ get sick-!"

"Shhh..."

Her soothing breath is enough to coax your eyes back open, albeit timidly. You're just in time to see her lean over you once again, locks of her soft hair slipping over the front of her shoulder to tickle your chin where the sheets have slipped away.

Before you know it, her breath is fanning over your skin, and her lips are pressed to your cheek with an indescribable fondness.

You gasp, closing your eyes again, squeezing her hand to you chest so tightly you're surprised her fingers don't crack a little.

She nuzzles against your cheek, her free hand threading pieces of your hair. She manages to free her other hand enough to move it up to your shoulder, keeping you still.

Gently – so gently – she rests her weight on top of you, but braces most of it on her elbows on either side of your body. There is only a slight pressure as your bodies press together, her chest and stomach moving in time with her breathing, providing a pleasant, calming weight against your aching bones. Her heart thumps slowly over yours, and you let its rhythm soothe you into a state of ease.

She keeps the contact light, but makes sure it's just enough to remind you that she's here, and that she has no intentions of letting you go through this alone.

And you never wanted to, anyway.

So you give in, grateful for her presence and for her support, despite your fears of passing the sickness onto her. You hope that if it goes away quickly, then you won't have to worry about it spreading.

For a moment longer, she stays with you, keeping you warm and comfortable, to the point where you almost forget that you're sick at all.

Only when she pulls away is the daydream over. Her lips leave your cheek, her pulse leaves your chest, and her hand leaves your shoulder. You lift your heavy eyelids, finding lilac pools fluttering down to catch your gaze. Once more, she strokes her hand along your cheek, first with her knuckles, then turns it over to use her palm.

You can tell she's trying to be more confident, but she still can't help but fret. When she next speaks, her voice is reserved.

"Are you all right?"

You offer up the most genuine smile you can manage and nod. You'd never be all right with lying to her, but you're telling the truth now. The only thing wrong with you seems to be a layer of extra heat coating your skin, along with a bit of soreness and a tickle in your nose. But other than that, you feel perfectly fine.

"Yes. I'm all right."

She inhales, letting your smile and words of affirmation quell her fears. It is her turn to smile again, and she dips her head.

"Very well. I'm going to fetch you some breakfast. In the meantime, please stay here and rest. I won't be gone for long. I promise."

She begins to move away, but you call her back just for a moment.

"Please wait."

She turns back, tilting her head curiously, ready to do anything you might request, to give you anything you might need.

But you merely reach out for her hand – the one you'd so passionately gripped earlier, to the point of making her fingers a little red.

You push the pads of your fingers against the bases of hers, spreading them out to reveal her palm. There, you press a tender kiss to the map of creases, then place one more a bit lower down, on the underside of her wrist, briefly feeling the flitting of her pulse against your mouth.

She accepts your silent apology with another stroke to your bangs.

"Thank you, Izetta."

Reluctantly, you release her hand, and let her slip away.

She neatly makes her side of the bed, but is sure to pull the blankets back up for you, tucking you in snugly. She also repositions your pillow, and despite your assurances that she needn't trouble herself, she helps you rest your head where it's most comfortable.

Only when she's completely convinced that you're as relaxed as you're going to get does she straighten up and take a step back.

"There. Now I'll be back in just a few minutes. So rest."

"...Yes, Princess."

She leans down just one more time to kiss your forehead. With that, she hurries across the room to pull her green dress from her drawers, then takes it with her as she heads for the door. She casts one last look over her shoulder, just to make sure you're all right before she slips out into the hallway, and closes the door behind herself.

You watch her go, and only now does this all start to sink in.

You can't afford to let this happen. You can't afford to get sick like this - not now, not when the world and her country are in such dire circumstances.

 _How could I let this happen? Now of all times..._

Mortified and ashamed, you draw the blankets entirely up to cover your head and sigh. But the sheets stifle your breath that's already too heavy, making it doubly unpleasant. It's not long before you pull the blankets back down and whimper pitifully.

She's advised you to rest until she returns, so the least you can do is make an attempt to uphold your word.

So you close your eyes in a vain effort to invite sleep back, knowing you'll never be that lucky.

However, by some miracle, you do manage to rest for just a few minutes, your body naturally conserving the remnants of her warmth. The pillows still smell like her, and breathing in gradually becomes less and less of a chore...

Several minutes of rest are granted to you before you hear footsteps in the hallway. They are soft and clearly in a hurry, so you know they can't be anyone else's but hers. There is a bit of a struggle at the door knob, and when she finally enters, you look up to understand why.

She's properly dressed now, and her hands are occupied, one with a tray and one with a small pail. On the tray sits a plate of warm toast slathered with jam, as well as a small, steaming tea cup. The pail seems to be empty for the time being.

Almost breathlessly, she pushes the door closed behind herself and enters the room.

"Sorry for causing a ruckus! I hope I didn't wake you!"

As she makes her way over to you, you struggle to sit up.

"N-Not at all. B-But Princess, you shouldn't be carrying all of those things!"

"Nonsense!" She places the empty pail on the bedside table and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, carefully balancing the tray in her lap. "My status doesn't determine my inability to perform the tasks of those society has ranked below myself."

"O-Of course not! That isn't what I-"

"I know," she hushes you. "Don't worry about it. I take no offense. Now then, I've brought you some toast and a cup of Darjeeling tea to help soothe your throat and hopefully clear up some of the congestion. Do you think you can try a bit?"

You glance down at the small meal she's offering and instantly realize how hollow your stomach feels.

"Yes... Thank you, Princess."

"No need to thank me. I just want you to get better."

Her eyes say what her lips do not. That it's not just because you're her country's secret weapon that she wants you to recover quickly. In fact, you can tell that's the last thought on her mind right now.

She wants _Izetta_ , her dearest friend, to get better first and foremost.

So she turns towards you, reaching out to rest one hand at your back to help you sit up. With the other hand, she offers you the plate of toast.

Now you realize it isn't just any flavor of jam she's put on it, but strawberry, your favorite. You can't help but smile as you pick up the first piece and daintily bite into it.

The bread itself is warm, but the jam is cool, creating an overall pleasant combination in your dry mouth.

She stays by your side as you eat, offering soft words of encouragement as well as gentle pats on your back. Once you've finished eating both slices of toast, she picks up a napkin and brushes it at your lips.

"I'm so glad you managed to eat it all! Should I fetch you more?"

You quickly shake your head, putting both hands up.

"N-No, no! This was the perfect amount of food for me right now, Princess. I don't need any more."

She puts the napkin down, then picks up the tea cup.

"All right. Then please try to drink some of this. I'll help you."

You nod, reaching down for the little white tea cup. But before you can make contact with it, she stops you, and wraps a napkin around the cup to prevent you from burning yourself. Only then do you pick it up, and she braces her free hand beneath yours to keep your grip steady.

Your arms are trembling a bit, but it's less from the mild sickness and more from the fact that she's nursing you back to health, as though _she_ were the attendant and _you_ the princess.

But she's never cared for titles and status in that way, nor does she care for them now. She just wants to help you, her dearest friend.

You take a deep breath as the rim bumps against your lips. She supports you as you take small sips, finding the tea to be lukewarm and calming in temperature. The perfect amount of cream has been added, and there's a little more sugar than most people would like, but it's exactly how you prefer it.

She's never made you tea herself before – the maids and waiters often have that task. But even though this was her first time preparing it herself, she's memorized your preferences and done it perfectly.

You eagerly drink the rest of the cup, until the last drop has dribbled its way down your throat, soothing the soreness there and quenching the thirst. She helps you put the cup back down onto the tray, and rubs your back a few more times.

"How was it? Be honest."

"Princess, it was perfect!"

"Then I'm glad."

She picks up the tray and stands just briefly in order to put it aside on the dresser, then returns to her seat on the bed.

Eating and drinking has made you feel immensely better already, but the smile fades from your lips when you notice her tight expression and how her brow is so furrowed with concern. She moves a bit closer, taking your hands in hers, covering them both as if you keep them warm.

"Izetta. Are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you? If there's anything at all, then _please_..."

And you know she isn't only doing this because she's worried about your cold. There's a bit of last night's conversation rearing its head in her mind. She's frightened you might blame her for all of this, that it's her fault it happened.

So you slip your hands from under hers and place them on top instead, giving them each a squeeze.

"I'm fine, Princess. Truthfully, I think I'm feeling a lot better already."

A spark of hope lights in her eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes!"

At this point she lets out a breath she seems to have been holding in for an hour. Lifting her arms, she wraps them around you, and pulls you in to her chest.

For a moment, she simply holds you, and you return the favor, sliding your hands across the small of her back. You breathe with her, almost thankful for this sickness if it means you get to do this with her for a little longer than usual today. You nuzzle into her hair and the side of her neck, tucking your face in with a sigh.

She lets you stay there for a moment, until her urge to restore you to full health kicks back in. She pulls away a little, just so she may rest her forehead up against yours. You close your eyes in embarrassment, she in concentration.

"You're still a little too warm. We've got nothing of dire importance to do today, so please. Just rest." She eases back and looks into your eyes for her final request. "For me?"

And though you'd never had any intentions to refute her anyway, those final two words made refusal all the more impossible to consider. She doesn't mean to bribe you into getting better; she just truthfully understands that she'll never feel better herself until you do.

There's only one answer you'd ever give either way.

"Of course, Princess." You hug her around her slender waist just a little tighter. "With you helping me like this, I'll be better in no time! But please don't strain yourself! I'm sure I'll recover on my own."

"Don't be silly. I want to help you get better."

"And you are! Just please don't worry unnecessarily!" you insist.

She lets out another exhale, and when you can next see her face, there's a small smile on it.

"All right. Now let me just clean things up a bit. I'll be right back."

Once more, she helps you lie down on your back, surrounding you in softness and warmth. She stands and picks up the tray, but leaves the pail behind.

She is only gone for a few minutes, and upon her return, she brings the pail into the restroom to fill it with water, then takes a clean wash cloth back into the bedroom with her.

You're horrified to see her lifting such a hefty, common item, both because she is a princess and because you know firsthand just how skinny she is.

But she manages to bring the pail back to the nightstand table, where she dips the cloth in, and wrings it out. Then, she sits down once again, brushes your bangs aside, and wipes the sweat away. The cloth is cool, but not cold, just the perfect temperature to chase away the heat of the fever.

Slowly, she dabs the material across your forehead, moving all along your hair line. She traces one side of your face, then the other, and you can't help but close your eyes as you enjoy the feeling. As much as you want to protest, it all just feels far too heavenly.

So you savor the feeling of her pressing the cloth over your brow, wiping the sweat off your nose, cheeks, and lips.

She dips it again, wrings it out, then returns to her task of cooling you down. She cleans your face entirely of sweat and stress, and you can't help but sigh. Your eyelids flicker open drowsily, and your gaze flashes up to her, her title slipping sleepily from your lips.

"Princess..."

She pauses in her motions for a second, gingerly moving your bangs aside with the cloth.

"Izetta? Are you all right?"

You can't dip your head quickly enough.

"Mmhm..."

"...Are you sure...?"

"Yes, Princess..."

You know she just wants to be absolutely certain. Lilac eyes hold your gaze for a few seconds longer as she slides the cloth down to your cheek again.

"Then... may I?" Her other hand tugs slightly at the blankets, and you understand what she means.

Once again, you dip your head, giving your consent.

She eases the blankets down just a little, revealing your nightgown only as far as your collar. With painstaking care, she presses the cloth down and around each side of your neck, clearing away the discomfort there as well. She rinses, wrings it, and brings it back once again, this time holding it over your collar.

The coolness soothes the base of your throat as her fingers drag it across your heated skin. The motions she uses are slow, calming, and encourage you to relax, ensuring that she's going to take care of you no matter what.

For once, you allow yourself to believe you deserve it.

She all but massages your chest and shoulders as she works, eliciting tiny squeaks of bliss from your lips. Whenever that happens, you blush harder, but it always makes her chuckle.

The process continues for what feels like hours to you, and you've long-since lost track of time, so for all you know, it really could have been that long. You're aware of the fact that you're slipping in and out of consciousness, lulled into light states of slumber by her expert ministrations.

You don't know how many times you've fallen asleep before you finally wake, feeling immensely refreshed and rejuvenated. When you look up, the lighting in the room has changed, suggesting it is now late in the evening.

Your princess still sits beside you, diligently wiping the sweat off your brow when she realizes you've awoken. She smiles warmly.

"Did you sleep at all? How are you feeling?" She puts the cloth aside into the pail and replaces it once more with her hand on your cheek.

Dreamily, you sigh, unable to stop the smile.

"Princess... I feel so much better..." You reassure her as earnestly as you had before.

But just as before, she is doubtful, and a flash of worry makes her eyes tremble.

"You're certain?"

"Yes," you affirm. "Princess, I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. Especially when I know it would only cause you distress. I promise I'm all right."

You pull your hands out from beneath the covers just to find hers, seeking her eyes. But she keeps looking away, and she bites her lip.

"Princess?" you whisper. "What's the matter? A-Are you not feeling well? A-Are you sick-?"

"No, noting of the sort," she says quickly. "I'd just..." She takes in a deep breath, and it shakes on its way out. "I'd just been thinking... that maybe this was some kind of illness exclusive to witches. Something incurable by modern standards and medicine. I was... _so_ worried..."

Finally, the clarity sweeps through you. All this time, she's been fretting about something like this.

"Princess!" you cry. "No such illness exists! This is likely just a common human cold! I'm very sure it's already almost gone thanks to all you've done for me."

Almost timidly, she flicks her gaze back down to yours.

"So... So it isn't something that can only affect witches?"

"Nothing of the sort! There's no need for you to worry to such an extent, Princess!"

Only now does she truly seem convinced enough to be relieved.

"Oh, thank goodness..." She lifts a hand to her chest, as though feeling as the weight is lifted off her heart. You keep a hold on her other hand, squeezing her fingers, rubbing gently over the back of her hand.

It takes her a moment to regain her composure after the fright, but she soon straightens up once again.

One more time, she places a hand on you forehead, brushing your bangs aside. And she leans over you, resting her forehead on yours, her weight settling lightly against your chest. She hums thoughtfully, trying to determine your temperature. Another squeak comes from your lips just before she pulls back, now finally able to smile genuinely.

"Good. Then you should be able to get out of bed by morning."

Now that she's certain it's just a regular cold, she seems immensely better herself.

"I'm sorry, Princess," you mumble. "This has never happened before. They say that certain people never get colds... But..."

"Then if it's nothing exclusive to witches, it just shows how tired you are. You sunk a whole carrier on your own, after all."

Her heartfelt praise is enough to make your face red again. Shyly, you pull the blankets back up to your mouth and all but borrow beneath them.

"I'm sorry... for making you worry..."

"There's no need for you to be sorry. It's my own fault I got so carried away. I'd just let my mind wander to consider so many ideas, they started to pile up. Before I knew it, I'd convinced myself you were terribly ill." She closes her eyes again. "I'm so relieved it's nothing serious..."

"Of course it's not."

She looks much more tired than you'd felt at any point today, and where your face had been flushed, hers is now extremely pale. You can't help but worry about her, fretting she's jeopardized her own health for the sake of yours.

You give a small tug to her hand, gaining her attention. She looks back up to you curiously. Shifting, you pat the open space beside yourself, chewing your lip nervously beneath the blankets. Another relieved smile crosses her lips.

She slips off her boots before climbing into her side of the bed, and lies herself down at your side. With you beneath the covers and her on top of them, it's a little difficult to reach out to her, but you manage it nonetheless.

You slip your arms beneath hers as she wraps hers around your shoulders, bodies pressed close together. She rests her chin atop your head, and you tuck your face into the crook of her neck. Turning your head to one side, the shell of your ear presses against the pulse in her neck. Her heart thumps slowly, almost heavily now.

For a moment you listen, and a festering vexation starts to boil in your stomach. Beseechingly, you cling to her as you mumble your own uncertainties.

"Princess... are you all right? You must be so tired..."

She holds you a little tighter, and you can feel her shake her head from side to side.

"Not because of you. I'm glad I could take care of you today. I only worried myself to such an extent... But now that I know for certain you'll get better, I'll be fine."

A small whine works its way up the back of your throat. You would've preferred if her fright could have been avoided altogether, but as things are now, her recovery is all you can hope for.

She must sense how unsettled you've become, because she holds a gentle kiss to the top of your head, and lets her hands roam your shoulders in circles.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you, Izetta."

"Neither did I, Princess."

Despite it all, she chuckles softly.

"Then, do you forgive me?"

"O-Of course! ...Do you?"

"Of course," she hums. "Let's just both focus on getting better now, shall we?"

"Right."

With the two of you now significantly relaxed, the final prickles of worry and pain ebb away, replaced by the warm, tender touches you share. You close your eyes and nestle close to her, and the beats of her heart fill your head.

"Oh..." You can feel the vibrations in her throat as she adds one last comment. "Before I forget, I'd wanted to tell you. There's going to be a party here tomorrow. It's Lord Redford's birthday party, in theory, but they're also having a meeting to decide how the allies are going to respond to what you just did for us. I'm hoping we can bring home good news."

This information surprises you just as it makes you more nervous about such an event. But also too, it gives you a sense of pride in what you've done for her, and for her country.

Your only response is another long sigh, but it's enough to tell her you've heard what she's said before you drift away into the combers of sleep. She follows shortly afterward, and for the both of you, the night brings healing.

And for once, you're not afraid to wake, come morning.

* * *

 **A/N: As you can tell, I've twisted the canon events a bit to fit into my story instead, and made slight alterations to the dialogue from the show. The next chapter is going to cover the second half of episode 8 and add a major twist of my own as well!**

 **Please review!**


	7. Whatever It Takes

**Since the previous chapter sort of 'fixed' the first half of episode 8, this chapter is going to 'fix' the second half. And I also added a major, dramatic twist (that's probably never going to happen/be proven in or relevant to canon. I just made it up).**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

* * *

Whatever It Takes

Waking is entirely more pleasant than it had been yesterday morning, and previous ones.

Now, you can sense right away that whatever ailments had been bothering you yesterday have completely vanished. There's no longer any congestion in your throat, any tickles in your nose, or any unexplained heat beneath your skin. Only a subtle, favorable warmth remains, and you know it's all thanks to her.

The first sounds you hear this morning are also the final ones you'd heard last night. Those being the steady beats of her heart, drumming rhythmically against your ear.

Blinking your eyes open, you discover you're both in the same positions you'd fallen asleep in last night. You're still snugly wrapped in the blankets, in your nightgown, while she rests on top of the covers, still in her dress.

She'd fallen asleep without changing clothes, and you know that's partially your fault. At the very least, you can feel she isn't shivering, so it seems your embrace has served to keep her warm where the sheets couldn't.

The morning is still and quiet, so you allow yourself to indulge in her presence. Though your arms are numbed from sleep, you keep quiet as the prickles surge up from your fingertips to your shoulders. Once it's faded away, you can move your hands through her hair, as you so often love to do.

You know for certain that the sickness has left you once and for all, but thinking back to last night's conversation and concerns, a flame of worry ignites in you. You can only pray your illness hasn't spread to her in the night.

Cautiously, you shift yourself upward a bit, resting your cheek against her opposite shoulder. Her skin doesn't seem to be radiating any kind of unnatural heat, and it reassures you a good amount. Her pulse also sounds normal, albeit a little slow, but it's not straining as much as it had been yesterday.

Just to be certain, you slip one hand free of her back and bring it up to her forehead. Resting it there, you fail to detect any fever or signs of one.

"Thank goodness..."

You don't realize you've said it out loud until your princess lets out a tiny groan and begins to move. You curse yourself internally, this having been the third morning in a row when you've woken her. Ashamed, you bury your face in her collar and hold her tight, willing her to go back to sleep, to allow this time of peace and tranquility to continue.

But you can already feel her as she begins to stretch herself out a little, aware of the little cracks and pops in her shoulders and back as she does so, a hum working its way up her throat. She arches her stomach into yours briefly before going lax again, though her hands begin to idly make their way up and down your spine.

"Mm, Izetta..."

At first, her words are calm and sleepy, as though she would've been content to just laze about for a while longer with you. But then she remembers your condition, and quickly tenses up again.

"Izetta? How are you feeling?" She coaxes you back a little, so she may glimpse your face. Even before you answer, she's resting her forehead against yours once again.

"P-Princess. I'm all right. The sickness has passed."

"Really?" She eases back and breathes a sigh of relief into your hair. "Thank goodness..."

All you can think to do is snuggle a little closer, letting her feel for herself that you're telling the truth.

Now that the delicate uncertainties have been nudged aside, you start to feel something much more pleasant.

Excitement begins to bubble up in your stomach, along with a usual bit of nervousness. You remember she's told you about a party happening tonight, and though you're scared to attend such a lavish event, you can't help but feel excited at the prospect of getting to see her all dressed up.

You take a moment to consider what she might wear – dresses of different cuts and colors, suits of different materials...

"Izetta? Are you falling back asleep?"

"Huh? A-Ahh no, not at all! I'm sorry!"

"It's quite all right," she chuckles.

Together, the two of you free yourselves and one another from the tangle of limbs, sheets, and hair. You both sit up to face one another, clothes and hair ruffled, but with your skin now equally healthy pallors. Even so, you feel you need to inquire just to be certain.

"How are you feeling, Princess? You were a little unwell last night..."

She smiles kindly and coaxes you forward into another embrace.

"Don't worry. I'm all right."

Now, it is your turn to breathe a sigh of the utmost relief.

For a moment, you both maintain the contact. But it's not long before your stomach growls, reminding you of how little you'd eaten yesterday. And now that you think about it, you never saw her eat anything either.

"Princess. Perhaps we should go to breakfast soon?"

She nods and sits back.

"That sounds like a good idea. I'm glad you have an appetite. I'm feeling a bit peckish myself. But I think I'd like to shower and change clothes first."

"Me, too."

"Then you go first," she invites. "I'll tidy up the room in the meantime."

"E-Eh? N-No, Princess, I couldn't possibly-!"

"It's fine! I need something to do in order to keep my mind off the party later. So take your time. The water here is nice and warm." She cups your cheek, then pecks the other quickly. You blush crimson, feeling more feverish now than you had at any point yesterday.

Together, you get out of bed. She points to a pile of boxes that had been delivered the day before, encouraging you to make a selection for tonight's banquet.

You decide on a dress the color of creamy, warm sunrises, because it reminds you of how the golden light catches in her hair first thing in the morning. This dress she compliments to no end, expressing how eager she is to see you in it. But for now, she simply hangs it on the back of the door.

You select another, much more casual dress to wear for the rest of the day, and take it into the restroom with you to start your shower.

All the while, you just can't stop thinking about what she'll be wearing tonight, and how you'll get to stand beside her.

* * *

In all your wildest daydreams, you'd never considered her to wear something like this.

She looks less like a princess and more like a knight, though you assume the former part is likely intentional. The royal blue suit is extremely fitting and becoming on her figure, its formality matched only by her identity. Accents of gold compliment her hair, and a simple sash around her waist adds a bit of extra charm.

The maids have tied her hair back into a low ponytail, secured with a blue ribbon. Every cuff, collar, and button on her person has been shined, unruffled, and smoothed into perfection.

She is nothing short of gallant, and criminally handsome.

When you're first allowed into the room to see her, you can scarcely do much more than stare with your mouth hanging slack. You feel as your heart begins to do backflips, and heat rushes up to your cheeks.

Little do you know, she's admiring you just as much.

Your dress is extravagant and lovely, and you hardly feel worthy of wearing it, let alone accompanying _her_ of all people tonight. The materials are soft and flowing, with ribbons and matching gloves that cover your hands up to your elbows. Even the fancy shoes are a surprisingly comfortable fit.

The maids have tied your hair into a high ponytail to contrast your princess' style, and delicate flowers have been pinned into your hair and necklace. You're so busy admiring her that you fail to comprehend she's doing the same, until she speaks first.

"Izetta! You look astounding!" She scurries over to you, pausing just a foot or so away. Instantly, you stammer a response.

"N-No! I'm not worthy of such praise, Princess! It's _you_ who's astounding!"

"Then we match!" she declares triumphantly. "I've selected your mask. Did you choose one for me as well?"

"Y-Yes!"

The maids had briefly described this little tradition to you as they'd been dressing you. Partners for such a banquet would often select the other's mask before seeing them, and upon their meeting, they would exchange the accessories.

Presently, you reveal the mask you'd selected for her. It is silver with small, intricate designs carved around the borders. She absolutely lights up upon seeing it.

"It's perfect! Thank you, Izetta. I've got yours as well." She brings into view a mask of thin see-through material, with floral patterns printed across it.

"Wow... It's really pretty."

"To match its owner!"

With that, she slips it into place for you to complete your outfit. She then leans forward, inclining her head a little, waiting for you to do the same.

Timidly, you slide her mask into place as well, tucking it underneath the few loose locks of her hair. She smiles as you finish and pull away.

"Well?" she asks. "How do I look?"

"Princess... you look so lovely. I-I can't properly explain it..."

She laughs heartily, then offers you her arm.

"Thank you, Izetta. I could say the same."

With a nod, she encourages you to step close. You oblige, wrapping both arms around her elbow and falling into step at her side.

She leads you down the hallways of the castle to where the party is already underway down below. Bright lights and pleasant conversations fill the air, and the atmosphere is palpable even before you enter the banquet hall.

It's a breathtaking sight.

Everyone is dressed in their best formal attire, and they all seem to be enjoying themselves immensely. Music from a nearby ensemble plays in the distance, the carefree tunes of fine instruments gliding around the room. The tables are set with expensive wine glasses and china, colorful flowers fill every vase in the room, and the tapestries are nothing short of lavish.

Everything just seems to be perfect.

But even in seeing all of this, your eyes ultimately travel back to her. For there is nothing more perfect than that.

A moment later, her voice draws you out of your reverie.

"It's wonderful. They really went-all out. As expected." She glances over at you, still smiling, her eyes alight with excitement. The smile fades just a little as she uses her free hand to cup your cheek. "Are you feeling all right? If it's too much, we can go elsewhere. I know you're not used to these sort of events, and you've only just gotten over your cold."

It's difficult to shake your head without pushing away her hand, but you manage.

"I'm all right, Princess."

The smile returns, and she lets her hand fall away.

For a short while, the two of you stand off to the side of the room, observing the other guests. You both know better than to let your guard down without proper caution.

But all seems to be going smoothly, and without hindrance. The people start to dance as a festive, lighthearted song begins to play. She appears to relax a little.

"Seems it's starting."

But despite what you've told her, this really _isn't_ the kind of event or atmosphere you're used to. You're certain you could easily come to favor such occasions, but you're simply not accustomed to them yet. The nerves that have been piling up in your chest finally start to overflow, and it's audible in the way your voice trembles now.

"Princess..."

But she's as confident as ever, especially in the face of total strangers, though few people here actually know who she is. She holds her chin high and puffs out her chest with a surety you'd always been a little envious of.

"There's no point in thinking about it," she says. "Why don't we dance too, Izetta?"

Her offer is one that was bound to be given at some point tonight, but it still surprises you. You both know how awful you are at dancing – poor Bianca was limping for days after your lessons with her. You can't imagine being so clumsy with your princess of all people. Plus, everyone in the room seems to be staring.

"But..." You avoid her gaze as you feel everyone else's upon you. You cling a little more tightly to her arm. "I'm embarrassed..."

Not to be seen with her. But of possibly making a fool out of yourself, and her in the process.

But she understands those fears, and rests a reassuring hand over yours.

"Don't worry."

You glance up to find her winking at you, sending another flutter through your chest.

Slowly, she coaxes you away from the wall.

But she doesn't bring you into the center of the room to dance. Rather, she takes you around the perimeter, sticking close to the walls as not to draw so much attention to yourselves. She keeps her hand on your forearm as you scurry alongside her.

Eventually, she brings you to the glass doors, and you both slip away, unnoticed.

She guides you away from the rowdy atmosphere inside, and out into the calm, quiet night. The air is cool and much easier to breathe out here in the courtyard, and the only sounds are the songs of crickets and the dribbling of the fountain. The moon casts humble, natural silver light, as opposed to the harsh artificial brightness of the bulbs inside.

Overall, you much prefer it out here, alone with her.

Once she's led you a fair distance away from the castle, but not far enough away for concern, you finally feel relaxed enough to lessen your vice grip on her arm. She turns to you and offers her hand along with a charming, irresistible smile.

"You won't be embarrassed out here, will you?"

It takes you a moment to comprehend all of this, the fact that she'd anticipated your nervousness and had planned out an alternate option. She's always considered your feelings above her own, so it's really no surprise she didn't hesitate so much as a second in bringing you out here, away from the judging gazes of strangers.

It would be rude of you to keep a lady waiting.

With a smile, you reach out your hand, letting your fingertips dance lightly over her palm. She grasps your hand with a gentle firmness, and dips her torso in a traditional bow.

"May I have this dance, my lady?"

"P-Princess!" you squeak, face as red as your hair. She laughs out loud and straightens up.

"Sorry, sorry! I just couldn't resist!"

Slowly, she guides you forward, coaxing you to follow her lead.

Where her boots pad on the marble, your shoes click and follow perfectly in her footsteps. She keeps things slow, controlled, but casual, knowing there's immense pressure on your shoulders not to mess this up.

It must show in your stiffness, because she pauses for a moment with earnest eyes and words.

"Don't be so tense, Izetta. Relax. You don't have to prove anything to anyone. Let's just enjoy ourselves, shall we?"

As always, she says exactly what you need to hear in order to feel better. You take in a breath and nod, trying to let the inhibitions out with the exhale.

"Right! Let's have a good time tonight, Princess."

Light and joy dance in her eyes as she takes a step back. You follow, doing your best to anticipate her steps so as not to land on her boots. But you can't afford to look down, not when her eyes are so dazzling, her smile so alluring.

Keeping hold of your hand with one of hers, she guides her other hand to your hip. The contact makes you jolt a little, and you hope the mask and the lack of lighting can conceal your blush.

Not knowing what to do with your free hand, you let it rest on her shoulder. Before you can rethink the action, she's praising you for it.

"That's right! This is the proper position for two people dancing. You must remember our lessons well!"

"M-Maybe a little..."

You can't help but smile back, since hers is so contagious.

As you both continue moving, you find it all coming naturally. Your dress flows right behind her tailcoat as she leads you in circles, sometimes slowly, and sometimes with a bit more vigor. The music from inside carries just a bit out here, and she moves you in time with the rhythm.

You don't even realize exactly when it is you stop being nervous and simply start to enjoy yourself.

By some stroke of luck, you don't step on her boots at all, though whether it's due to her expert maneuvering or coincidence, you'll never know.

Once you've fallen into step with her and have gotten a feel for the way she moves, she begins to pick up speed, just a little.

And before you know it, she's twirling you around as though _you're_ the princess here. She extends her arm, lets you turn, then gently tugs you close again, supporting the small of your back.

Exhilaration and sheer bliss cause you to giggle with delight as you follow her around and around.

Time becomes insignificant. Only the shifting of the moonlight is an indication for how long you dance with her.

Somewhere along the lines, you both become a little breathless, so she slows things down, your once-quick steps now becoming a steady waltz. She pulls you into a much more intimate position, resting her chin on your shoulder as you do the same for her. Your right hand finds its way to her back and presses her closer to you, while the left entwines its fingers with hers.

"Princess..."

Your voice glides out as effortlessly as she dances, without reserve or regret.

As you breathe her in, she draws back and rests her forehead against yours. You bore your gaze into shimmering lilac, catching a whiff of the actual flower scent from the nearby gardens.

Your heart his pounding, and it's less from all the dancing, and more from something else.

Her hand braces itself at your hip, and you can feel her breath fanning out on your lips.

Your dance slows, so you can focus on something else.

You can see it in her eyes – what she wants – and you know you want it too.

So you close your eyes and lean forward, ever so slightly.

You feel her lips hovering in front of yours, moving in until your breaths entangle-

"Oh, you left the ball, too?"

A foreign, male voice interrupts what was about to be the most perfect moment of your life.

With a gasp, you pull away from your princess, instinctively hiding at her side, reverting to your previous state of clinging to her arm.

Clearly, she too, is highly miffed by the intrusion, but she can't allow herself to display that annoyance. She turns, straightens up, facing the strange man and the small, white-haired woman at his side.

You look the man over first. He is well-dressed and clever, but something about him sets him apart from the other guests.

Most likely, it is his unsettling smile, as though he holds knowledge of many things he should never know. It is almost sly in a way, cunning, condescending, as is his voice.

"It seems everyone has the same idea," he went on.

You watch as his eyes flick over your person with mild interest, but what you can't stand is when he directs his attention to your princess. Your skin crawls without reason, and a shudder runs up your spine.

But looking at the strange girl is even more unsettling.

Her gaze is bleak - unblinking, but alluring. It feels like you're being drawn into a trap and are helpless to stop it.

You're only vaguely aware of your princess' reply to him.

"It seems we've interrupted you," she says calmly. "We'll be going."

She grasps your hand in a motion that would appear to be casual. But you can feel how tight her grip is, how urgently she wants to get you out of here.

She begins leading you up the steps, but still the man addresses her.

"If you feel sorry for interrupting us, why not have a dance?"

Your princess replies without haste, while still managing to keep her cool.

"My partner isn't a very good dancer. I'm afraid that's not possible."

By now, you've both bested the steps to stand merely feet away from the other guests. She positions herself to stand slightly in front of you now, shielding you with her own body.

The man never loses his chilling grin.

"Then what about you?"

You tense, feeling both frightened for and protective of her at the same time. You just want him to stop focusing on her so intently.

In contrast to your conflicting emotions, she maintains her collected exterior.

"You jest. I can't dance with you dressed like this."

"No," he protests. "A sharp sword brings out your beauty far more than a dazzling dress."

As the two of them exchange words only between themselves, your eyes wander back to the white-haired girl.

She hasn't stopped staring at you all the while, and once again you feel compelled to do the same. It feels like some magnetic force is drawing you to her, though every instinct and fiber of your being is begging you to flee.

 _Why can't I stop looking at this girl...?_

It's then she blinks for the first time since you've seen her, and she takes a single step forward.

What happens next is so fast, you don't even have ample time to react.

The relative stillness is shattered by a swift lunge on her part. She grabs your hand almost violently, forcing you to stay still. At the same time, she smashes her mouth into yours, sinking her sharp teeth into your lip without any forewarning.

It takes you a second to comprehend what's happening. You heart throbs painfully for an instant before you register the fact that she's drinking the blood from your lips almost hungrily.

With a yelp, you recoil, wretch your hands free, and shove her away. At the same time, your princess cries out for you in alarm.

"Izetta!"

She thrusts herself forward to interject, grabbing the girl by the arm to pull her off of you.

Again, it's all so fast, you can barely understand what's happening. But you witness it as the girl shoves her palm against your princess' chest in an effort to fend her off.

And then-

And then they both collapse.

Your princess falls to her knees, hissing in pain while clutching her chest. You shriek and drop down beside her.

"Princess!"

At the same time, the strange girl falls back into the man's arms, as he continues to grin almost excitedly.

Despite her pain, your princess lifts her face and her voice in fury.

"What did you do?"

But the man only picks up the white-haired girl and begins to rapidly withdraw with her.

"I'm sorry. She's a fan of yours and she seems to have let it get the better of her." He passes you both by, then backs away down the steps towards the courtyard. "A fan of the White Witch of Eylstadt."

A small gasp flies from your lips as you fretfully try to support your princess. She growls and glares after them.

"So you knew who we were? Who are _you?_ What-"

But she cuts off suddenly and hunches forward, hands crossed over her stomach and clutching at her chest. Panicked, you cry out for her again.

"P-Princess! What's the matter? W-What did she do?"

By the time you look back to the bottom of the steps, no one is there.

Terrified, you cling to her, pressing your hands over hers where she's holding tightly to her chest. She flinches, grunting in pain.

"I-I don't know... As soon as she touched me, there was this... sharp pain..."

She's breathing heavily now, as though she's been winded by the slightest of contact from that girl. You feel tears welling up behind your eyes.

"P-Princess, I-I'll go get help... I-I don't want to leave you here, but-"

"N-No..." she gasps. "It's... It's all right... the pain is subsiding..."

To demonstrate, she draws in several deep breaths, letting each one out slowly.

You watch her, still panicked and sniffling, tears already slipping down the sides of your face. You're shaking so badly, scared of what they might've done to her, and to yourself. You can still taste your own blood on your tongue, and you feel nauseous to recall the feeling of those sharp teeth on your lips.

But nothing sickens you more than the fear striking through your chest now, as you watch her crumpled on the ground, panting unevenly.

"Princess..." you whimper. "P-Princess-"

"It's all right... it's all right..."

She says as much, but her condition remains troubling. Even though her labored breathing begins to lessen in severity, there's still something... _off_. You can't quite place your finger on it, but something's not right.

"Princess, I think we should-"

But before you can finish, another male voice is heard, this one much more familiar.

"Oh, there you are!" Lord Redford calls. "Hm? Lady Fine? Is something wrong?"

You're just about to plead for him to call for help, but she stops you by laying a trembling hand over yours.

"Let's not cause a scene," she whispers. "I'm all right, Izetta."

"Princess..."

Somehow you're not convinced, but she doesn't allow it to go on any longer. She staggers to her feet, and you hurry to get up with her as she addresses Lord Redford.

"Not to worry. I merely stumbled," she assures him.

"Ah, that's all right then. Please hurry. The meeting is finished."

That news makes you both temporarily forget what's just happened here. Only a sway in her step and a smear of red on your lips are evidence.

"Thank you!" she replies. "We'll be there promptly."

The man dips his head and goes back inside.

You hold onto her hand and her waist, feeling that she's still shaking a little too much.

But as always, she's not concerned about herself.

She reaches her hand up to cradle your cheek, her eyes flicking down to the fresh cut on your lip. Gently, she wipes the blood away, using great care and caution in the place where such an awful pain has just shocked you.

"Those two," she growls. "I don't know who they are, but I'll have them persecuted for what they did to you."

"P-Princess! I don't think that's necessary... If anything, they should be persecuted for hurting _you!_ "

"As I said, whatever she did to me was only temporary. It's gone now." She narrows her eyes, though her touch remains soft and tender. "But she assaulted you, and I won't let that stand without proper punishment... I'm sorry I couldn't stop her."

"N-No! Princess, don't blame yourself! It happened so quickly, it was impossible to prevent! It's not your fault! I should've been more wary, but I let my guard down..."

"As did I," she sighs. "As such, I'll take full responsibility for this."

"Princess..."

"Don't worry. I'll ask Lord Redford for the guest list and have him provide descriptions of the patrons. Then we can track those two down. But for now..."

She leans forward in a familiar manner, as she'd done before at the end of your dance-

-And gently – _gently_ – she kisses you, as if to erase the pain, to make you forget about what just transpired.

Your tears drip down one by one as you hug her tightly, little hiccups bubbling up in your chest. She moves back, allowing you to catch your breath.

"For now," she murmurs. "This will have to do."

She draws you close and holds you against her, her arms defiant and protective. She allows you to hide in the side of her neck, and must feel your tears on her skin as clearly as she can hear your sobs. Her hold on you tightens just a little as she tries to still your quivering shoulders. Her voice whispers almost inaudibly against the shell of your ear.

"Izetta... Are you all right? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that so soon after-"

"N-No!" you yelp, vigorously shaking your head. "No, no, Princess! It's not like that! I'm... I'm _so_ happy... Thank you, Princess..."

You feel as though you've been cleansed of every awful thing you've ever felt. With a single kiss, she's absolved you of all the worry, pain, and guilt you've been drowning in for the past few minutes. You just hope she understands how grateful you truly are.

All you can do is hug her and cry with a smile on your lips now.

She pets through your ponytail and rubs your back, letting you lean on her for support. Then, she takes your hand and directs you back to the castle.

"Come. Let's go meet the others."

You wipe your eyes one last time, nod, and follow.

* * *

The room is filled with important-looking men, all seated around a formally-set table.

As soon as the two of you enter, all the men stand and greet you politely. You remove your masks and exchange pleasantries, but only for a moment.

After that, the conversation starts up right away, without wasting any more time.

And they tell you they plan to send troops to Eylstadt, to strengthen your armies and ensure your chances of success in this vicious war.

Hearing those words, you almost don't believe it initially. Clearly, neither does she, because she whips around in her joyousness and grabs your hands, her eyes bright and wide with excitement.

"Did you hear that?" she asks in the best kind of disbelief. "If Atlanta sends troops, the whole course of the war will change! It's thanks to you, Izetta!"

"Princess!" You're too thrilled about this news to do anything else but smile back at her.

The men around you seem pleased as well.

Soon, it seems your princess realizes she's lost herself to a temporary bout of childish mirth, because she quickly takes a breath and straightens up again. Releasing your hands, she turns back to face the men.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Stanley! We- ah-!"

Her words of gratitude are abruptly interrupted by a sudden, anguished gasp.

"P-Princess?!"

Dread grips your heart instantly, and the wonderful atmosphere comes crashing down as though the building itself had been bombed. Every ounce of joy you'd been feeling until now drains out of you in seconds as you watch her hands fly to her stomach, in the same place she'd indicated earlier.

The men all push back from their chairs and stand hastily.

"Archduchess Fine?"

"Is something the matter?"

You hold onto her, and she leans so heavily into you, you're certain she will collapse again if you let go with even one finger.

With almost painful quickness, she tries to regain her composure to address them.

"Ah, n-not at all. It seems I might've gotten a bit too excited. It's... been an exhausting evening. I hope you'll forgive my rudeness, but I think I need to excuse myself for the night."

"O-Of course," Lord Redford agrees, and no one else protests. But she does manage one last smile, forced as it may be, to Mr. Stanley.

"Thank you. Eylstadt will always be your ally, and we won't soon forget this."

He dips his head, and with that, the meeting comes to a close.

You keep your arms around her as you guide her to the doors, quickly thanking whomever it is that opens them to let you out. Staggering, you struggle to support her weight as she cringes, biting back cries of pain. Her breathing has become harsh and heavy once again, and she can barely open her eyes.

"Princess-!"

"Please... take me back to our room..."

"B-But Princess-"

"Izetta, please." She's begging now. "I can't afford to show... such weakness here, in front of these people."

You're terribly conflicted, knowing she needs medical attention, but also knowing that she's right. You can worry about calling for a doctor once she's in the privacy of your room.

So you swallow your protests and tighten your hold on her back, slinging one of her arms across your shoulders. With your free hand, you apply pressure where she's hurting the most, just beneath her breastbone. You're appalled to feel how hard she's breathing, and even more horrified at the fact that you can feel her pulse striking like a drum.

"H-Hold on, Princess. I-I'll get you to the room, I promise."

Now is no time for nervousness. She needs you. And she needs you to be courageous and level-headed.

So you guide her down the hallway, avoiding the main ballroom and any other rooms that might have occupants. You know she'll never make it up the staircase, so you head for the nearest elevator and stumble into it with her. You ride it to the top floor, then help her off.

By this point, she's barely able to stand, let alone breathe. You don't know what this is or why it's happening. But it's serious and it's not stopping.

With a final surge of effort and energy, you make it to your shared bedroom and push your way inside, then kick and lock the door behind you.

She collapses just as you reach the bed, her weight limp and helpless. With a shriek, you hold her up, just barely managing to lift her onto the mattress to lay her down.

Somewhere along the way, her hair tie has fallen out, leaving her tresses loose and tangled against her back, and you desperately brush them to one side so her weight won't tug at the strands. Her face is beaded with sweat, and her skin is ashen, almost completely void of color.

It's an alarming contrast to the florid pink blush that had played across her cheeks just a short while ago, when you'd just stepped out into the courtyard together. She looks like a shell of her former self, and her condition is declining rapidly.

"Princess, Princess!" you cry. "W-What do I do? Princess?"

She's still clutching her stomach, where that other girl made contact with her earlier. She can't even find the strength to open her eyes more than halfway, and she's constantly flinching as her body jolts, as though shockwaves are shooting through her. She can't breathe well enough to speak anything more than fragments.

"I...Ize...tta..."

She's gasping so deeply, so quickly, it's painful to listen to. You know she can't spare the breath, but you need her to tell you what's wrong.

She swallows thickly, but it only comes back up in a violent cough. A strangled cry erupts from her throat as she curls in on herself, clutching her chest once again.

"Princess!" You press a hand over her stomach, trying to apply more pressure where it's hurting her. Her heart is hammering, so ferociously you fear it's about to give out altogether. Tears spill down your cheeks in rivulets.

"Princess... wh-what do I do...?"

Helplessly, you scour the room, as if an answer will miraculously present itself. She's shuddering violently beneath you, almost to the point of spasming, choking on her own breath. Her condition has declined so suddenly, it's almost as though she's been poisoned. But she's ingested nothing all evening, and the ailments only started after that girl had touched her.

 _She must've done something..._

You try to fight back the tears, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, painfully aware of the fact that she's allowed no such luxury.

"P-Princess, th-that girl must have done something to you. P-Please, may I...?"

You rest your hands over her stomach, eyes imploring and tearful.

She cracks open one eye, chest heaving, but gives a small nod.

With her consent given, you hastily begin to unbutton her suit, your fingers trembling so much that you miss every button at least once before it comes undone.

You start from the top and work your way down, too frightened to be bashful about exposing her like this. You pull each side of the suit away from her stomach, and roll up the undershirt beneath as much as you need to, without sacrificing the decency of letting her chest remain covered.

Her stomach shudders and heaves with every frantic breath she takes in. In contrast to all the jolting movement, you lay your hand over her skin, several inches above her navel.

"I-It's okay, Princess..." you stammer, knowing you're not convincing her nor yourself. "P-Please just... just try to breathe... focus on that."

You scour her skin for any signs of marks, possibly made by an incision or needle of some kind.

But you can't see or feel any such thing. Aside from the old scar on her right side, her skin is unmarred and smooth to the touch.

Part of you had hoped to find _something_ , so you could at least determine what kind of instrument had punctured her skin. But there's nothing.

 _S-So what is it? What's happening-?_

Your thoughts cut off as she's assaulted by another round of forceful coughs. Desperately, you try to hold her down, helplessly watching the tears fall down her face.

"Princess... I-I don't know what to do... I don't know what to _do_ -"

You bow your head, feeling as though there's nothing more you can do for her. Your own tears rush down your cheeks as you start to sob.

"Princess... P-Princess..."

Her awful coughing finally comes to a halt, but it's stolen even more of her fleeting breath. Even so, she fights for her voice, meek as it is, and uses it.

"I...zetta..."

Her voice is so weak and thin now that you need to lean closer to listen.

"P-Princess...?"

You bite your lip to keep yourself quiet, and focus on her words. She needs to gather herself and tries to breathe as much as she can before continuing.

"I-It felt l-like... almost like... like your magics... o-only much colder..."

That's all she can manage to say before her breathlessness consumes her once again.

It isn't much, but it's enough.

"Magic...?"

Only now does it make sense to you. Why that girl had been so alluring. Why you couldn't stop looking at her. Why she'd drank your blood-

"S-She's a witch!" you yelp. "O-Or an artificial one somehow! O-Only a witch's powers can cancel out another witch's spell!"

No doubt, that girl had cast a curse or a hex of some sort. You stop crying long enough to be angry, furious that you'd allowed this to happen, and that it's taken you this long to realize what it is.

But there's no time for that now. Your princess needs you.

Of course, now that you know what's wrong with her, you also understand you're the _only_ one who can save her from the malicious curse.

But your powers require sacrifice. More specifically, blood.

You leave her only for a second, racing across the room and grabbing an envelope-opener from the nearby desk. You return to her side and hover over her, tears welling up all over again.

"Princess..."

Her breathing has slowed to a feeble, shallow pace. Her chest, which has been heaving so deeply up until this point, is barely moving at all now. When you press your palm back over her chest, you can hardly feel her pulse anymore.

She's withering away so quickly, like a flower in a blizzard.

"P-Princess, forgive me..."

You lift up one of her hands, and it's limp in your grasp. Turning her palm upward, you balance the blade over her skin.

The thought horrifies you, that you have to inflict a wound upon her, that you have to cause her physical pain.

But what's even more horrifying is the thought of what will happen if you don't.

So you steady your shaking hands and still the blade over the creases of her palm.

" _I'm sorry-_ "

With one quick motion, you slice open her skin, until crimson wells up before your eyes. Sobbing, you drop the weapon and clutch her bleeding hand, until her blood paints your own palm.

"I'm so sorry... please forgive me, Princess."

Once your hand is covered in red, you lie her arm down at her side.

Then, you balance your stained palm over her stomach, directly where the other witch had made contact. You don't even bother to apologize to your grandmother this time as you activate your powers, because you'd never regret using them for _her_ sake.

Closing your eyes, you concentrate on the flow of magics and link it to her body through the blood, transferring it with your fingertips.

You follow the pulse in her chest to a source of foreign, intrusive energy. It appears in your mind like angry red vines, gnarled with thorns.

You push your own greener magics toward it, until the red is suffocated.

At last, it vanishes altogether.

Instantly, you sense a drastic change in her condition. Everything slows down, one beat of her heart and one breath of her air hanging in suspension for a split second. You give a slight push and nudge them back into action.

All at once, her heartbeat returns, slow and steady now. You feel her gasp just as easily as you hear it.

Opening your eyes, you find her lying frazzled on the bed, her eyes wide open as more tears drip down. But once the initial shock wears away, her breathing returns to normal. It's no longer forced or painful, but it's strong and supported once again. Her tired, scared eyes flash to yours, and her rasp of a voice tumbles out.

"Ize...tta..."

You're still sitting over her, pressing a hand soaked in her blood over her stomach. But your magics have dried most of it by now, using it to transfer your magics into the body that hosts that blood. Now, you withdraw your hands from her skin, leaving it as clean as when you'd first made contact.

"Princess..." you whimper. "A-Are you...?"

You can't finish your question, because the tears come rushing down, and the hiccups rob you of your voice. You lift both hands to your face to hide it, wiping your eyes repeatedly.

"P-Princess... I-I'm so sorry... I-I didn't know wh-what to do, a-and you were in so much _pain_... I-I let you suffer like that for so long, b-because I didn't realize that she..."

Sniffling, you peek past your fingers, letting one hand fall away to reach out to hers, to the one you'd cut yourself.

"A-And I hurt you... I h-had to hurt you, a-and I- eh-?!"

You're not allowed to finish spewing the apologies, because she uses every last shred of strength in her body to sit herself up, throw her arms around you, and pull you back down on top of herself.

"Izetta..." she gasps. "Thank you... _thank you_..."

"E-Eh?"

Confused, you try to brace some of your weight on your elbows against the mattress, fearing that resting your full weight on top of her now might hurt her further.

But she doesn't seem to have any intentions of relinquishing her grip anytime soon, let alone letting you go. She just clings to you, so tightly you realize she's shaking. But this time, it's from relief more than from fear.

"P...Princess..."

"Izetta... Except for the times I've.. sent you off into battle... I... I'd never been so scared before in my life... I've never felt... such horrible pain before..."

Sniffling, you bury your face into her shoulder.

You've never been on the receiving end of another witch's curse before, but you've heard the rumors and the accounts of what they felt like. Most hexes cast with such anger and vicious intent could kill a human in minutes. The fact that she survived one like this for as long as she did was nothing short of a miracle. She must've fought so hard, so valiantly.

"Princess... I... I was so scared... I was going to lose you..."

"That... was what I feared most, too. That I would no longer be able to serve my people and my country. But above all else... I was scared I might... never see you again, Izetta... my White Witch..."

Her words overwhelm you at last, and you break down in her arms, caterwauling.

She cries too, albeit much more softly. She's too exhausted, too pained, to even cry as much as she might like to.

But at least the danger has passed. You know for certain you've eradicated every last bit of that curse from within her. Now all she needs is rest.

And you know she can't do that with you crushing her like this and crying like an infant.

So you gradually push yourself up off of her, and slip off to one side. Without saying a word, you lean down over her and kiss the spot where that other witch had touched her.

Just as she'd done for you before, you erase that strange girl's touch with your own.

You feel her hands as she runs them through your hair, carefully releasing your ponytail.

Once you're absolutely certain she's cleansed of the hex, you re-button her clothes, leaving only the top one undone so she might breathe a little more easily.

Then, you slip off the bed, and she makes a move to follow you. But you gingerly press a hand onto her shoulder to keep her down. You can't manage to speak, but your eyes must say enough, because she doesn't protest and remains where she is.

You stumble to the restroom, wetting a cloth before returning to her bedside. You pick up the red-stained envelop-opener, the sight of her blood making your stomach churn. You place it aside back on the desk, then sit down at her side once more.

You're still crying a little, as is she. But she smiles up at you, indicating she's not in pain anymore.

You begin to run the cloth along her forehead and down along her cheeks to clear away the sweat and tears. It's exactly what she'd done for you yesterday evening.

She sighs, allowing her eyelids to flutter closed, and you know she deserves the brief moment of rest.

But she seems to feel she might fall asleep completely if she doesn't distract herself, so she opts to speak.

"I was... so worried... even before all this happened... Back at the meeting, I got so excited and grabbed your hands without thinking. I was so worried, because that witch had just done the same thing to you, and she'd hurt you. I was scared I might've hurt you somehow, too, by doing what she'd done..."

You can't believe she's going on about this now, after what's just happened. All this time, her greatest concern had been potentially upsetting you, and her own death had come second.

"Princess..."

You don't believe it. And yet, you know you shouldn't have expected anything less from her.

"Princess..."

Moving the cloth aside, you dip down to rest your forehead against hers.

"You never... _never_ hurt me. Something like that could never... All this time, you were worried about _that_...?"

"I'm sorry," she wheezes. "I just couldn't help myself... I was so outraged at that girl. I still am, and I'm going to prosecute her for what she did to you..."

"What she did to _me?_ " you blurt out. "Princess, she nearly _killed_ you!"

Neither of you had said it directly until now, but that only makes it all the more real. It makes you realize what had almost just happened here.

Your Princess...

Your _beloved_ Princess...

...had almost died in front of you.

The realization silences you both for a moment.

Guiltily, you lift up her bloodied hand, where the wound you'd inflicted on her is mostly dry now. Using the cloth, you carefully begin to clean it, rubbing the red away until her skin is cleared. Only the cut itself remains.

Putting the cloth aside, you dip your head down while lifting her palm to your lips. You press another kiss there, just as two tears roll down and transfer onto her skin.

"I'm sorry, Princess... _I had to._.."

"Shhh..." She uses her free hand to reach up and caress your cheek. "It's all right, Izetta. I know you had no choice. You shouldn't feel so guilty about saving my life."

"B-But-! I-I had to cut you! I made you _bleed_ -!"

"And you saved my life," she repeats. "Thank you, Izetta."

Your tears roll down and land on her cheeks beneath you. Sniffling again, you sink down beside her, clinging to her chest and back.

She holds you as you weep, for fear, for guilt, and for relief. She pats your back and all through your hair, hushing you with cajoling whispers and little hums. Once more, you can feel the vibrations of her voice as they roll up her throat, all while her heart beats steadily at the center of her chest.

Your warmth spreads its way across her torso, and at the same time, you feel hers being shared with you.

You're just so relieved it's all over for now, that she's all right...

Surely, this won't be the last you see of those people, and when the time comes, you plan to make them pay for what they've done.

But for now, you put the anger and thoughts of vengeance aside and simply nuzzle into her once again.

"Princess..."

You say her title so often, you always fear it's beginning to lose its meaning. But from the first time you've said it up until now, you've always said it from the heart, as you'd address the most important person in your life.

She draws you closer, cradling your head to her chest with such great care, it sends a new wave of emotion through you.

"It's been a long day," she breathes. "We should rest. But first..."

Kindly, she coaxes you away just a little, until your eyes can lock once again. She moves one hand up the side of your neck and brushes her thumb over the cut on your lip.

And she kisses you there again - tenderly, warmly, and so, so lovingly.

When it's over, you reciprocate by kissing her injured palm, trailing your lips down to the pulse in her wrist.

She giggles softly, causing you to do the same. She brushes her nose against yours, and this time, it's you who kisses her, softly and sweetly.

Then, it's only sighs and gentle breaths as you both close your eyes, willing away the troublesome thoughts, trying to focus only on the here and now.

You're both safe.

You're both alive.

You're together.

And you'll both do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

* * *

 **A/N: I just can't help but think that we're going to need to see more of Fine's blood before the series is over. Since Izetta is a blood mage, and seeing Fine bleeding has triggered her several times now, I have a feeling it could be necessary in the finale episodes somehow...**

 **Of course, I doubt her powers could work this way as I'd described them. I'd simply gotten this idea in my head and wanted to give them some time alone together where episode 8 robbed us of so many possibilities. And of course, I mainly did this for the fluff.**

 **Please review!**


	8. The Greatest Magic

**I'd wanted to write this story last week when we saw the stressful episode 9, but didn't have the time (yay finals). But this week, after seeing the even MORE stressful episode 10, I made sure to make time for it.**

 **As you'll see this story branches from the anime. I basically create my own version of what could have happened, and I make my own ending as well. It does get dark at one point, so be warned.**

 **And this is the first time I'm writing other characters besides Fine and Izetta, so I'll use honorifics for some of them in dialogue, though Izetta will continue to address Fine as "Princess."**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

* * *

The Greatest Magic

You've seen death before.

Far too many more times than you can count, more than you'd like to admit.

You've seen the bullets, the flames, the sicknesses, everything that's claimed the lives of innocent people before your very eyes.

You've seen death many times.

But never before have you come so close to experiencing it for yourself.

Your fall from your mount is a violent one. The second your magic has been sapped away, you tumble so painfully to the ground that the wound on your right side becomes unnecessary in keeping you down.

The witch looks down on you from high above, laughing in a cruel, almost manic matter, with nothing but hatred in her eyes.

The skies are clogged with black smoke and gunpowder, and then with the red streaks of bombs as they explode, one by one, in the place you've been fighting so hard to protect.

The war rages all around you, without mercy.

The war you'd once been _winning_ is now crushing every last hope and dream you've ever had, and your lungs along with it.

There's blood and agony leaking from your mouth, and several other places on your body. The death-colored sky is a terrifying contrast to the soft wildflowers that cushion your broken and battered form.

And you can only remember that girl from town, at the pie shop, the one who'd gifted you with flowers of your own.

You wonder where she is now, if she's been murdered, shot, blown to pieces...

How many people have died in the seconds since you've fallen? How many are dying _right now?_ How many will die in the future because of your failure?

It seems you'll have to wait in order to find out.

Because the chains shoot down and start constricting around you like iron pythons, squeezing the feeling out of your limbs and the air from your chest as they hoist you up high. Your feet are soon off the ground as you dangle from the structure she's prepared just for you.

Just this morning, you'd been Eylstadt's most revered and loved heroine. You'd become their new hope...

And now, you're nothing more than a martyr, crucified and helpless, unable to save yourself, let alone anyone else.

You can hear the whirring of enemy planes, the screeching of the bombs and missiles as they fall, the blasts of pistols and rifles as they steal lives, one by one.

The last thing you see is your princess' homeland – the _one_ place you had left to protect – going up in flames.

* * *

The void you find yourself in is silent and lifeless.

Initially, you can't remember anything, can't make sense of anything. Your senses don't seem to work, and for a brief instance, you can't even be sure of your own consciousness.

But then, a small green spark of light makes itself visible to you. It is impossibly small, and the flicker to it is weak and barely noticeable, like the light of a single firefly within an endless night.

But you run towards it anyway, or at least send your senses out to it in whatever way you can. You strain for it, knowing it is something you must obtain.

But just as you catch up to it, the timid green color flashes violently red. The spark twists and gnarls itself into a flow of corrupt magics, then spreads out, stretching long, crooked fingers up around your throat, squeezing, _squeezing_ -

"Wake up!"

An angry male voice shouts at you as a brutal kick is thrown directly into your injured side. You scream in breathless agony as the chains rattle, your body swaying from where it still hangs.

In this manner, you are viciously yanked back into reality, into a world you'd never wanted to see.

It's worse than every nightmare you've ever suffered through. The bombs are still going off, the tanks are still trampling over the soil and the bodies of the soldiers, and the many screams of distress are still rising up from the town beyond as it is pillaged and decimated.

Another kick lands in your side, forcing you to direct your attention elsewhere.

Your assailant is a man you've never seen before, one wearing the Germanian uniform. The medals on his collar tell of his high-ranking position in the military. He carries a large rifle in his hand, and a triumphant smirk on his lips. You can see it in his eyes that he enjoys seeing your pain, and the pain of Eylstadt.

Some people join wars because it is their duty to defend their country. Others do it because they enjoy killing. It's clear to you right away which category he falls into.

He uses his rifle to poke at you as though you're some kind of lab rat, laughing in a sickening manner as he does so.

"The Great White Witch of Eylstadt! Look at you now. Pathetic."

You don't need _him_ to tell you that. You know what you are. You know what you've done. Or rather, what you've failed to do.

You do your best to swallow down the scream, but he keeps jabbing you with the rifle until you cry out. He laughs again.

"The entire world knows about your downfall now, girly! Pretty soon, everyone will be bowing to the Great Germanian Empire. And it's all thanks to you." He runs the end of the gun up against your cheek, forcing you to look at him. Then, he whacks it against your temple and withdraws.

"Well, we might've gotten some good photographs of you already, girly. All tied up and half dead, at our mercy. But we're not finished yet. There are... a few more things we'd like to show the world. Just so everyone knows what we're capable of."

He turns his back on you and gives a loud shout to someone you can't see. But your eyes do catch sight of the other witch, floating on her mount not far away. She's been watching you this entire time, with a mix of chilling amusement and heated fury in her eyes.

Now that you're awake again, you can feel every cut on your body, every ache in your abused bones and every tear in your muscles. Your wrists feel as though they are about to snap at any second now, and your fingers have already drained of feeling.

The chains only seem to get tighter with every pitiful breath you try to take, though little air ever makes it into your lungs. Your ribs feel as though they've all been broken, like someone must have taken a sledgehammer to you while you were unconscious. The pain is immense enough where that possibility doesn't seem all that unlikely.

For a long, excruciating moment, you're simply forced to dangle there and listen as more and more bombs fall, as more rifles fire, as more people die...

"Now then..." the man is saying. He's standing somewhere behind you now, and you can hear the sounds of a car rolling up. "As I've promised, we've got a few things left to do here for these photographers. We could really do this anywhere, but I made the call to do it here. Right where you could see it, girly."

And despite the situation, despite how utterly and horribly helpless you are, you can't help but snarl softly.

You may be down, but you're not out.

Even if you're chained and bleeding.

Even if you're unable to use your magics.

So long as you still draw breath you will do whatever it takes to keep fighting.

For her sake.

Rage and determination smother the fear and the pain as you attempt to wring your wrists free of the binding chains.

You refuse to give up. If you've still got the energy, then you've at least got to _try_. You made a promise, after all.

You don't know what he's referring to, what it is he has to "show" you, and you really can't care less about whatever gibberish he's spouting.

All you need to do is focus on getting away, getting out of this somehow. So you can fight once more, so you can do as you'd said you would and protect this country.

There's nothing this louse of a man can do to keep you from fighting.

At least, that's what you'd thought.

That's what you'd told yourself.

But, as it turns out, there was _one_ single thing he could do in order to extinguish that fire within you.

The doors of a car slam behind you, and you hear him laughing again.

"Give it up and come quietly. You're in no position to be struggling right now, _Your Highness_."

Those two words.

Just those two words sap every last bit of motivation and energy you've somehow miraculously conjured up.

Just like that, your flicker of hope has been trampled beyond saving.

"N...No..."

You rasp the word as tears start falling down, even before you have confirmation. Your heart slams hard against your aching ribs, and it's all you can do to shake your head against the chains.

"No... _no_..."

But your pleas and prayers go ruthlessly unanswered.

The man comes into view once again, and this time he's not alone.

With her hands bound tightly behind her back and a blindfold over her eyes, he is leading her like a lamb to the slaughter, with a rough, calloused hand on her delicate shoulder, forcing her to walk. She struggles as much as she's able to, trying at the very least to shake off his grip.

"Unhand me!" she demands. "I can walk on my own!"

"Hey!"

You watch in horror as he violently grabs a handful of her hair and yanks her forward until she shrieks. He leans in close to her face and spits.

"You're not in _charge_ anymore. I can do whatever the hell I damn well please with you. And I plan to. I've got the king's permission."

With this harrowing threat, he thrusts her forward until she collapses to her knees in the mud. You try to cry out, but no sound is produced, only more pain.

You watch as she struggles to get up, but the man slams a boot to her back. This time, your voice carries.

" _Princess_ -!"

She sputters, but manages to lift her head.

"I... Izetta...?"

The cloth over her eyes prevents her from seeing, but she turns her face directly towards you. You writhe and wriggle in place, choked by the sobs.

"P- Prin...cess..."

She's _so_ close to you. Just mere feet away.

But you can't reach her, nor she you.

The man takes a few steps forward and stops, standing over your beloved princess.

"Well, thanks for ruining the surprise, girly." With that, he bends down and tugs the blindfold away from her eyes.

She gasps as she takes in the sight of you, and a fresh, endless flow of tears begins to pour down her cheeks.

"Izetta... oh, what have they done...? What have... _I_ done...?"

"N...No..."

You want to tell her.

You want to tell her that it's not her fault.

That nothing ever _has_ been.

That nothing ever _will_ be.

But you don't have the breath or the ability to say any of that now.

You watch wordlessly as her eyes scour every inch of you, broken and battered. She sees every drop of blood, every cut, every bruise, every stain, every tear.

And every single one deals another blow to her heart.

She flinches with each new injury she sees. It's like watching her get shot over and over again.

When her eyes at last make their way to yours, you see everything you've never wanted to see.

Every horrible, debilitating emotion.

The fear, the agony, the blame, the sorrow, the guilt, the self-hatred. It's all there, and then some, drowning out every last kind emotion she's ever harbored, smothering every last shred of hope.

In your mind, you've failed her. But in hers, she's failed you.

The pain you both suffer now is mutual, and equally as consuming. Seeing one another like this only serves to make you all the more powerless.

And the Germanians have done this on purpose.

Because you are - or at the very least you _once_ were - Eylstadt's two strongest people. And this is the only possible way short of death to ever make you stop fighting.

They have brought you together in order to demonstrate their complete and utter control over you. Because they know neither of you will fight back if the other's life is at immediate risk, right before your eyes.

It is a cruel, yet effective tactic.

You cease your struggling when you see her there, kneeling in the dirt, covered in minor abrasions. You know her capture must have involved a valiant struggle on her part, but they clearly hadn't gone easy on the Archduchess of the country they are invading.

Her hair is frazzled and her clothes are disheveled, and though she seems to be majorly unharmed, you can tell she is about to surrender. With your eyes, you beg for her not to, because if she gives in, you know you'll have no choice but to do the same.

And if you both surrender, then you'll never see that future you'd promised one another...

You don't want to break that promise. You don't want to lose that dream.

But there doesn't seem to be any more either of you can do. Your defeat, and ultimately Eylstadt's official surrender, is inevitable.

Your princess grovels before you, only a few feet shy of your ankles. Rivulets are still dripping down both sides of her face, and she bows her head in shame.

"I did this..." she whispers. "I did this to you, Izetta..."

"Prin...cess..." A feeble croak is the best you can manage before the breathlessness gets the better of you yet again.

Your brief moment together is once again interrupted by the soldier, who stomps nearer and pauses within range of her.

"That's enough. We're wasting time. I promised these journalists a good news story, so now it's time to deliver." He gains her full attention and smirks down at her. "Surrender. I wanna hear you say it."

And a part of you almost chuckles when you see the defiant smile cross her lips.

Despite her tears and despite her internal agony, she never lets her terror show. Not to him.

"I refuse."

The boot smashes into the side of her face and sends her spiraling.

A strangled sob rips from your throat as you watch her tumble and roll to a stop, arms still bound behind her back. She coughs and tries to get up as he follows her.

"I'm sorry. Perhaps I didn't make myself clear." Now, he crouches down and gets close to her, once again lifting her up by the hair. He leans in disgustingly close and growls. "I said _surrender_."

"And... _I_ said... I refuse."

This time, he slaps her across the face, and she hits the ground once more.

You cry out again, now willing her to do as he asks.

But in the pit of your stomach, you know she'll do no such thing. Not if the only punishment is at her own expense.

You know that, should the solider ever turn on you and threaten to do you harm, she'll say exactly what he wants to hear in a second.

But since it is only her own life at stake, she refuses.

Again and again, she refuses his command. And for each time she does so, he hits her again, kicks her, degrades her.

And all you can do is watch.

You lose count of just how many times it happens. After it escalates to double digits, you can't bear to watch anymore.

So you close your eyes and bow your head, letting the tears drip down into the bloodstained soil below.

Eventually, the soldier's voice is becoming high-pitched with frustration and rage, like a child who keeps getting denied a plaything.

But your princess remains calm despite everything. You realize he's shoved her back towards you now, and when you dare to look, you wish you hadn't.

She's covered in dirt and grime and small streaks of blood. Her pearly white skin is tainted, and her luscious golden hair is knotted.

She was once a lioness, strong and commanding, able and powerful, calculating and proud.

But now she's fallen into the claws of the filthy hyenas to be shredded apart bit by bit.

There is blood dripping from her lips, and one of her eyes can no longer open. But there's still a fire blazing there. Small as it may be, she won't let it go out so long as she draws breath.

Again, you're forced to watch as he towers over her, his voice now a furious howl.

"This is your _last_ chance before I change tactics." He squats down beside her and grabs her chin, tugging her face around so she can only look up at him. " _Say it._ Say you surrender."

She swallows, and for a brief moment, you believe she might do it, and perhaps that would be for the better at this point.

But she gathers up the blood between her teeth and this time she doesn't swallow it down. She spits it directly into his face, all proper poise and code of conduct absent from this primal struggle.

He yells and drops her as he wipes his eyes. His distress is momentary, but for as long as it lasts, your princess appears to smile. Just for a second.

Again, you croak out her title.

"Princess... p-please..."

Slowly, she turns to look up at you again, as though she's been avoiding doing so all this time because it pains her to see you like this far more than it pains her to be kicked and beaten. She blinks, and more tears rush down the sides of her face.

"Izetta... I'm so sorry... I pray... you can forgive me..."

Again, you try to speak. But your words are cut off by the enraged soldier as he rounds on her again.

"So that's how you wanna play? Fine then. You asked for it."

She watches him intently now, and you know why. Because should he take even one step in your direction, she'll surrender in a heartbeat.

But again, he doesn't come for you. His ire seems to be honed in on her alone. It is _her_ suffering he wants, and he's going to have it however he can.

You watch with an increasingly sickening feeling as he kicks her in the side to roll her over, so she is face-down in the grass. From there, he bends down to grab her wrists where they are bound together. You can see that her fingers are red, much like your own are by now, and there is blood on her wrists from where the ropes have cut in too deep.

He lifts up her arms behind her back, and brings out a small knife.

Immediately, you begin to writhe again, struggling to scream. But to your surprise, he only uses the knife to cut the ropes around her wrists, then he pockets it again.

As her arms are freed, your princess doesn't question what's happened. She instantly makes an effort to escape, but he holds fast to her, one hand grabbing each of her wrists.

"Not so fast. I'm just gettin' started with you, _Your Highness._ " He always spits out her title as though it is acid on his tongue.

Panicked, you watch as he lifts her arms up above her back again, though he keeps her lying in the dirt.

For a moment, all is still. You can see now just how badly she's struggling to catch her breath, how consistently the blood is leaking down from her nose and lips.

You don't want to watch, whatever it is he's about to do. But some part of you needs to know.

You can only offer one small plea in hopes of preventing it.

"P-Please... no..."

But your request goes entirely unnoticed.

With a sudden, violent pull, he yanks her arms back as far and as high as they can go. At the same time, he lifts his boot and crushes her spine.

She screams, a sound so heartbreaking and terrible you can't even bare to watch.

He just keeps pushing her down all while pulling her arms back. He shoves his weight down onto her, causing her to sputter without air.

And he doesn't stop until there's an audible crack, one that makes your stomach heave.

After an extended and agonizing amount of time, he finally drops her.

You can barely see past the stinging blur of your tears, but you seek her out nonetheless. Cameras are flashing, capturing the deed he has just performed.

And your princess...

Though her arms are no longer bound together, they are infinitely more useless than they had been before. They are limp and broken at her sides, and she is unable to so much as push herself up out of the mud. She is shuddering almost violently now, chest heaving for breath that won't come, blood and tears and dirt coating her face, her hair, her clothes.

The sight of her now scares you more than anything you've ever seen before. It strikes deep, foreboding chords within your soul, shaking you to your very core.

You could face the armies of every other country in the world, with all of their biggest weapons, all at the same time, and never be half as fearful as you are now.

You know the Germanians need her alive for now. But that leaves an infinite amount of room for torture like this.

Once again, you give a weak, helpless struggle as her title falls from your lips.

"Prin... Princess... n-no..."

You whimper and sob as your body quivers with shockwaves of guilt.

If you'd done your job properly...

If you'd won, this wouldn't be happening...

Something flares up inside you to mix with the shame and the trepidation. You can't quit name it, but it feels angry, acidic, _burning_. You truly feel you're about to be ill, and you can taste the rustic tang of blood behind your lips.

But this surge of energy and pain will have to wait for more of your attention.

The soldier has been laughing and posing for pictures all the while. Now, he kicks her over onto her back and steps on her chest, and the cameras go wild.

You can only look to her lying there, completely at their mercy. She's broken both emotionally and physically, though never spiritually. She can barely manage to turn her head and open her one good eye to seek you out.

She can't smile anymore, but you know she would if she could.

She's just happy you're alive.

Even if all else crumbles, if you should live longer than she does, then she'd smile just a little.

She doesn't have the breath to say it, but she mouths silent apologies to you once again.

 _I'm sorry..._

All you can do is shake your head, hoping she knows she's forgiven, and that you never once blamed her in the first place.

Every emotion you've been feeling up until now seems to be pooling together. Combined with the blood loss and dehydration, it's making you dizzy, and you fear you might lose consciousness again. And it very well may be that you won't wake up this time.

But you refuse to let that happen, not until you know her fate.

You know they can't kill her – not yet, at least. They still need her for political reasons, at the very least to use her as an example to the rest of the world. So you're just hoping the wretched soldier will be finished now, that he'll put her into the back of a truck and drive off and she'll still be alive.

This was enough for now. He'd made his point.

At least, that's how you feel.

But it is soon made evident that this man's hatred and greed cannot be satiated even by all of this.

You'd seen the sadistic hunger in his eyes from the beginning, but after all of this, it hasn't been satisfied. It only makes him hungrier and hungrier for more.

He turns away from the cameras and now grins down at your princess, removing his boot from her chest.

"Now, I did warn you, didn't I? You had all those chances to listen, but you didn't. You did this to yourself, really."

She can barely turn her face to look at him, let alone retaliate. He begins to pace around her, like a vulture circling its prey, like a wolf stalking.

"You know, this has all been fun. But you still haven't said those two little words yet. It's very simple. 'I surrender.' Surely the Archduchess of the once-mighty Eylstadt can manage that much. Or are you really that stupid?"

Another surge of rage boils up in your stomach. It feels like something is shifting inside of you, but the chains keep you as still as ever.

The man pays you no heed and simply continues his tactics on her.

"Well, no matter." He comes to a sudden halt, standing next to her ankles. "Even if you don't say it, there's a surefire way to _show_ it."

You can feel your heart as it slams to a stop.

"No..."

He crouches down over her, the disgusting smirk never once leaving his lips.

"The king told me to show the world that Eylstadt is now under our control. That the Great Germanian Empire has _dominated_ your puny country. And there's something we can do to show that, isn't there? It's universal. No matter the language they speak, anyone can interpret _this_."

He reaches down and touches her thigh, then slowly begins to lift her dress.

She jolts and flinches, but is entirely helpless. All she can do is close her eyes.

He takes his time in running his hands over her dress, then uses his other hand to begin fiddling with his own clothes.

And you feel as though your soul has left your body.

Nothing _feels_ real anymore.

There is a white noise in your ears, a tasteless sensation in the back of your throat, and a shuddering movement throughout your body. The tears flowing down seem to freeze in their descent.

And suddenly, all of those emotions that have been warring inside of you up until now settle in antebellum. A cold, _powerful_ sensation is the result.

"No..."

It boils like water, flickers like flame, rumbles like earth, whirls like air.

" _No_..."

Something is being conjured up from the bottom of your soul, something you've never known before, something that terrifies you.

But you need it.

And you need it _now_.

" _NOOOO!_ "

Your screams split the air, more loudly than any crushing tank or exploding bomb. As your voice echoes at impossible volumes, the earth begins to shake.

But it isn't because of the machines of war or the destruction they are causing, nor is it a natural occurrence.

The soldier pauses in what he's about to do and looks at you, and his confusion quickly fades into terror.

The ground continues to tremble, until it's shaking violently to match how you feel inside.

"NO!" you shriek. " _GET AWAY FROM HER!_ "

And all at once, the very ground beneath you splinters open.

Here, in an area where the magic has been stolen away, there is still one last weapon for you to use.

It is not magic, but the leylines themselves.

Your innate abilities that were born to you as a witch resonate with the lines that once coursed strongly with magics. Now, you pull them up from their rooted dwellings deep beneath the earth, bringing them into the light of day.

Your chains break free and you drop down to your feet, screaming in a rage as the green roots surface one after another.

They are your familiars.

And they just keep coming.

There are thousands, all under your command now. Some terrifying power has been ignited within you, and you don't know how you're controlling it.

But you're not about to ask questions.

Eyes red with fury, you turn to face the despicable man where he still hovers over your princess. It's all happened so quickly, he can't even find the time to be confused. You don't think he deserves it.

" _Get away from my princess!_ "

With one sharp thrust of your arm, a leyline does you bidding. It rises up from the earth and pierces him through, impaling his corpse like a massive sword. You then toss the body as far as possible.

But you don't stop there.

Where you throw out your arm, a leyline follows the trajectory. With a single sweep, one takes out an entire row of enemy tanks. The machines burst into flames, and cause a chain reaction with the ones nearby.

You send another one out into the sky, slicing through a dozen planes at once, and just as many missiles.

Again and again, you scream, throwing the leylines out into the war to do as you command. With their magics stolen away, they now act as your familiars, your final weapons.

Within a matter of minutes, you destroy every machine.

Every weapon.

Every enemy.

Every last one of them.

The other witch is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps you've killed her too without realizing it, or perhaps she's merely fled in fear of your monumental newfound powers.

Either way, no one is fighting back.

So you don't stop.

Not until every last one of their machines and weapons are a useless pile of flames and debris. Whatever enemy soldiers aren't already dead are fleeing after you've single-handedly turned the tables of war back into your favor with one spin.

Only when the shooting stops and the air becomes quiet again do you finally allow yourself to halt.

In a matter of moments, the war that has lasted for so many tumultuous months, is over.

Slowly, the leylines sink back down into the earth, but not before you thank them for their final service to you.

As the leylines fall back into the ground, you fall to your knees as well.

It's difficult to breathe, and every fiber of your body feels as though it's been scorched beyond feeling. But it seems your worst wound has stopped bleeding somehow, and when you command your body to move, it does so.

Everything feels hypersensitive, but to your surprise, there is no pain. None that you can register feeling, anyway.

So you take advantage of this state of being, knowing that it won't last long.

Slowly, you turn back to where she lies, unmoving. There's no strength left in your legs, so you have no choice but to crawl to her side.

Sobbing uncontrollably, you reach her at long last.

Never before have you felt quite as helpless as you do now.

She's still bleeding, and now you can see that one pool of red is on her right side, over her old scar. Her arms are still limp and she's unable to move any part of her body, save for her fluttering eyelids. When she lifts them, streams of tears fall from behind them, the drops clearing trails of dirt and blood from her skin as they fall. Her chest trembles, and she is barely breathing. But she tries anyway.

"Ize... tta..."

There is indescribable pain in her eyes, anguish, agony, fear...

But when she sees you, it all fades away, and only one thing is left behind.

You now recognize it as the same emotion you'd felt just now, when all the magics and emotions within your body had united together.

It wasn't rage.

It wasn't fear.

It was something infinitely stronger.

It was – and still is – the greatest magic of all.

In its strength is gentleness, and in that gentleness is strength.

So you use the softer side of it now as you reach out to hold her, hunching forward and over her. You pull up a few of the remaining leylines and curl them around you both, forming a protective barrier that no one will be able to penetrate.

Your voice, cracked and shattered from its overuse just moments earlier, is nothing more than a whisper now.

"Princess... oh, Princess..."

Carefully, you smooth out her dress where the soldier had trifled with it. There's blood on her stomach and on her thighs, but you know it isn't hers. The body that had leaked that blood is now somewhere halfway to oblivion, and rightfully so.

Gently, oh so gently, you slip one arm beneath her bruised back and shoulder blades, lifting her up into your lap. She flinches and her body jolts, a thick, strangled cough forcing its way out. Its followed by another bout of them, which causes her breath to hitch in a dangerous way.

"Princess-!"

Fearfully, you curl yourself over her, trying to still her. Her body begins to jerk almost spastically, and it's all you can do to keep her still.

Judging by the way she's breathing, you can assume some of her ribs have been broken, and one has possibly punctured a lung. Touching her in any way only seems to make things worse, but you'll be damned if you don't try to help her. Especially after all she's been through.

Gingerly, you wrap yourself around her, using your own body to still hers. Her pulse beats weakly beneath yours, and she's shivering to the point where it's unstoppable.

But eventually, the coughing does stop, though her breathing still doesn't improve. Resting your head against her collar, you can hear an unmistakable obstruction gurgling at the base of her throat. Her lungs are filling with blood, and she's drowning.

Minding her broken arms, you turn her onto her side as quickly as you can manage and allow her to vomit.

It's impossible to stop your tears now as you're forced to watch and feel her like this. But you know you have to. It's the only way.

She expels every last drop she can, retching until she's able to breathe again. At that point, you bring her back into your lap once more and hold her there.

"Princess... I-"

Words fail you, both because your voice is broken and because you simply can't think of any more words to say after all of this.

So you cry.

Just cry.

You lean over her, to shield her with your own body.

You're unable to ask for permission this time, but you can't stop yourself from touching her cheek, ever so gently. You touch her as one might touch a fragile newborn bird, with the slightest contact and the utmost care.

You caress her face where her tears and blood have mixed together, wiping away as much of the grime as you can, only to realize your own fingers are leaving streaks behind as well.

You trace your fingers along her jawline, which seems to have been shifted out of alignment to some degree. You wipe the blood from her nose so she doesn't have to worry about swallowing that, too. You tuck the loose, tangled locks of her hair back behind her ears, and pet lightly through her bangs, never so much as tugging a single strand.

One of her eyes is swollen shut, but the other is struggling to keep her vision from shifting out of focus. She parts her lips and makes an effort to speak, but only a wheezing breath escapes her.

"No..." you hush her. "Prin...cess, no. Please d-don't try to talk. _Please.._." Dipping down, you hold your lips to her brow and whimper. "Y-You need to... you just need to breathe now, Princess. Please... just breathe..."

This, you beg of her. It's all you ask of her.

And after all you've done for her, she decides it's only fair of her to comply.

You can't thank her enough for that.

You start to feel dizzy now, and you know it won't be long before all of this catches up to you and eventually takes its toll. And you don't know how big a price you'll be made to pay. For all you know, this could be the last time you ever see her.

You're determined to make it count.

So you trail tiny, featherlight kisses over her forehead and her cheeks. Your lips wash over her like a gentle tide, drawing in and pulling out in a steady pattern. You let them travel wherever it is she'll let them, anywhere that doesn't cause her to flinch.

Your free hand presses over the gash in her right side, over the same scar you'd seen open up so many times already. At the very least, now you have one to match.

You make sure never to press in too much, never to let your fingertips linger too long on any given spot, lest it aggravate her numerous wounds further.

You can see it in her gaze that she longs to tell you so many things, that she longs to hold you, too.

But she can't do either of those things. All she can do is breathe as you've asked her to, and cry.

Both of you cry, and neither of you stops.

Both of you are unable to move, despite how badly you require medical attention. But you refuse to remove the barrier around you unless you're certain help has arrived. You'd sooner die than lower your defenses with the risk of it being the enemy on the other side.

You won't let any of them touch her ever again. You swear it on your grandmother's grave.

Gently, sweetly, you continue to kiss her, coaxing her good eye closed so you may kiss there as well.

But this time, she doesn't open them again.

Instantly frightened, you let your ear rest against her collar once more. Her heartbeat is so faint, and her breathing is ragged once again.

You need to get the fluid out of her lungs. But she's no longer conscious to cough it up.

Terror shoots through you so violently it feels like a sword has plunged through your chest.

"P-Princess... Princess, p-please... wake up..." You try to turn her onto her side again, but she's unresponsive. "N-No... please no... Princess...?"

You place a hand over her heart, but all you can feel is a thick congestion in her chest. Her breathing has stopped, and so has her pulse.

"No... no, no, n-no! Princess! You can't! You can't die! _Princess!_ "

Without so much as even getting to hear her say your name one last time, her body grows eerily still beneath yours.

And you can feel your world breaking apart, splitting at the core, pieces breaking off one by one.

"No."

Again, you kiss her eyelids.

"No..."

Then her cheek.

" _No_..."

And finally, her lips.

" _Princess_..."

Your conscious is fading, and so is your strength. You can hear footsteps and familiar voices approaching, and they're calling both of your names. Only then do you allow the barrier to fall.

But you refuse to let her go without telling her one last thing.

" _I love you_..."

And then all is black and quiet.

* * *

Black and quiet.

Those are the last things you remember.

And even now, they are all around you.

But now, you can at least make sense of them.

Up until now, you'd had no conscious with which to do so.

Gradually, your senses return to you, one by one. You can feel yourself breathing, feel your heart beating, feel a softness beneath your body.

And then you begin to feel all the soreness, the prickles of pain, every little ache. There isn't much to smell or taste, other than a faint tang of fabric, perhaps a blanket or carpet or both. At least it's warm here...

You can hear your own breath, but other than that, there seems to be no motion directly nearby. When you focus, you can make out muffled voices and footsteps, but they are distant.

Your sight is the most difficult sense to gain back. It takes you a long while to be able to lift up your eyelids. They flicker, flutter, then squeeze shut again a few times.

The memories come flooding back.

The images of the battlefield. The sight of your princess...

You force your eyes open, and a gasp flies up from your lungs, causing a dull ache to shoot through your chest.

You find yourself in a bedroom, and it all seems so familiar, waking up like this. How many times has it been now...?

But when you strain to look beside yourself, _she_ isn't there.

But you soon discover you aren't alone.

"Izetta-san!"

The squeak of a voice comes from your other side. As you turn your face, you recognize Lotte, eyes wide, and she's nearly fallen off her chair. She's looking at you as though she never expected to see you awake again. Immediately, she jumps up to her feet and begins bouncing in place. "Izetta-san! Y-You're awake! You're finally awake!"

"F...Finally...?" you rasp, puzzled. "What...?"

But she's clearly too excited to hear you out.

"Ahh, I've got to tell Bianca-san! I've got to tell the doctors!"

"W-Wait-" You beg her, and this time she pauses to listen. You can't find the strength to do much more than prop yourself up on your elbows, but you manage to shift yourself into a somewhat more elevated position. "Lotte-chan... what... happened to the Princess?"

Your voice cracks as you speak her title, as though you're scared to know the answer.

And some part of you is.

You can still vividly remember the way she'd grown still in your arms, how her breathing had slowed, how her heart had stopped...

Lotte anxiously turns to look at the door, eager to bolt for it. But when she glances back down at you, there's a much more solemn look in her eyes. She takes in a deep, steadying breath.

"Izetta-san..." Her eyes flicker to and fro, nervously. "T-The Princess is d-"

"Lotte?"

Another voice suddenly cuts the young maid off, and you look to the doorway to see Bianca rush through. She gasps and nearly stumbles at the sight of you.

"Izetta! You're awake! I thought I'd heard Lotte say as much, b-but I never..." She straightens up instantly, the shock in her eyes quickly changing into determination. "I'll go fetch them!"

And before you can even speak her name, she is gone.

You turn your attention back to Lotte, who's too jittery to know what to do with herself. She just keeps looking at you, then back to the doorway. But you've still yet to get any answers.

"Lotte-chan, please-"

But a sudden bout of coughs steals your voice away, sending shockwaves of pain all throughout your body. The maid shrieks and quickly rushes to pat your back for you until it's over. Breathlessly, you lean back against the pillows and concentrate on getting your breath back.

In the meantime, the girl explains all that she can.

"Izetta-san... it's been about a month since you defeated the Germanian Empire."

Astounded, you can't help but blurt out.

"Wh-What? A month?"

She nods.

"Yes. You ended the war that day, Izetta-san. Your powers were so immense and incredible, you destroyed most of their weapons in a matter of minutes. That other witch hasn't been seen since. It's been discovered that she was merely a clone, and it's believed that her host body has died.

"So the Germanian's surrendered and withdrew what few forces they had left." She looks to you with a beaming smile and sparkling eyes. "Eylstadt has won. And it's all thanks to you, Izetta-san."

You can't believe those words. Even though they've been _all_ you've ever wanted to hear since all of this began, now that you're hearing them, you can't believe them.

"I... Eylstadt... won...?"

She nods again.

"Yes! A little less than a month ago, it was officially declared that we won the war! And it shocked the entire world! Just when everyone was thinking we'd lost, we ended up winning! The world now views us as one of the most powerful countries, despite our size.

"And for the past month, we've been rebuilding, re-establishing old relationships, and creating new treaties and alignments. It's a time of great peace now. And it's all thanks to you."

Her words warm your heart, in a way you never thought possible.

To know that... that it's all over...

That you don't have to fight anymore...

That you made it through until the end...

That your dream... has _finally_ come true.

The world you've always wanted to see, the world of peace where everyone can look forward to their own tomorrow...

It's finally here.

A smile rises up on your lips.

But as quickly as it appears, it fades once again.

"But... what about-?"

"Hurry, please!" Bianca's urgent voice sounds from the hallway and she comes to an abrupt halt in the doorway. She is promptly followed by a familiar doctor, whose eyes go wide at the sight of you.

"My word! She's really awake!" He enters the room and approaches your bedside. And the first thing he does upon reaching it is drop to his knees. "Izetta-sama. Thank you for all you've done on behalf Eylstadt. We are eternally in your debt."

Shocked, you can only shake your head slowly.

"N-No. I'm the one who's still indebted. I can never repay it enough..."

He smiles kindly and rises to his feet. From there, he checks you over, while Lotte hovers nearby and helps. In a matter of minutes, the doctor determines your condition.

"With some good rest and food, you'll make a full recovery. But remember, you've been comatose for almost a month now. It's going to take some time."

You dip your head in gratitude.

"Yes. But... with this time of peace, I don't think I'll have any reason to rush."

"Right you are." With this, he turns away and heads for the door.

Bianca is still standing vigil there, and once the doctor exits, she catches Lotte's eye. You see her silent signal, which draws the young girl away from your bed and to the doorway.

"W-Wait! Lotte-chan, Bianca-san! P-Please. I-"

Your eyes follow them to the threshold, where they step back for a moment. You can hear them murmuring to someone.

"Please go slowly."

"Take your time!"

You fall silent as you strain to peer around the doorway.

Step by step, they coax her into view.

Your princess.

"Ah-!" Your hands fly to your mouth, the first action you've really been able to take since you woke, and it makes your muscles screech in protest.

But you don't care.

Your princess is here.

She's _alive._

She adorns a familiar green dress, and she looks a bit more slender than you remember. One of her arms is draped across Bianca's shoulders. The other rests in a cast, bent in at the elbow across her chest.

Even though it's been a month, she still looks so tired, so frail.

But that all changes the second she lays eyes on you.

A sparkle comes to life in her lilac gaze, and a smile curls her lips for what must be the first time in weeks. The tears start falling before she even speaks.

" _Izetta_..."

Similarly, you feel warm wetness begin to dribble down your face.

"P- _Princess_..."

Bianca and Lotte guide her into the room, ensuring she's got her balance. She tries to walk more quickly than she can handle, just to reach you a second sooner, and her attendants must keep her from stumbling.

It only takes a moment, but it must be the longest moment of your lives.

At last, she reaches the bed. Even before they've helped her sit down, she's already reaching out her good arm to pull you in close.

"Izetta!"

Again, you ignore the pain in your arms as you lift them, and place them gently around her shoulders.

"Princess!"

Your voices break down into a mixture of laughter and sobs. You pull her close, and in turn, are pulled in closer by her. You rest your chin on her shoulder, and feel hers on yours.

And it's finally _over_.

Only now that you've seen each other again has it finally and truly come to an end.

All of the pain. All of the uncertainties. All of the fighting.

It's all finally over.

Bianca and Lotte slip away at some point, leaving the two of you to live out your reunion for as long as you need to - though you're sure that no amount of time with her will ever be long enough, and every second away from her will always be too long.

But you're not going to be away from her anymore. Not ever again.

Your voice rises up and cracks, breaking in long caterwauls, choppy hiccups doubling up on themselves as you blubber like a child in her embrace.

She cries just as hard, if not harder, and it's one of those few times where you don't mind her tears.

She's needed this. For so, so long. Probably for just as long as you have.

The war is over.

Your fight is over.

And now that you have each other, you can both finally be at peace.

In between sobs of each other's names, the two of you eventually cry yourselves mostly dry. You fail to recall how many times this makes for such a feat. But you know it will be the last.

You are most of what supports her now, so you carefully bring her close, so she may lean against the headboard and pillows beside you. You keep an arm around her, though you're absolutely certain not to touch her injured one.

She coaxes you closer, until you're resting your forehead against her shoulder, burying your face in the side of her neck.

"Princess..."

"Izetta..."

You feel a light kiss to your hair, and you dare to squeeze her a little tighter. Slowly, you manage to lift your face again, gazing wondrously up into her eyes.

"Princess... you're alive..."

You can't manage any more than that before the tears take hold on you once again. She sniffles and reaches out with her good hand to cover one of yours. Her fingers quiver as she squeezes.

"I should be saying that."

Sighing, she closes her eyes, and this time it is she who leans against you. Whimpering in a mixture of relief and concern, you hug her closer.

"I'd just... the last I'd seen you, Princess... you were..."

She sighs again, and a shiver runs through her back.

"It's true that when they found us... they said I had just about died. In fact, they said I _should_ have. But you'd done enough to give me just a few more seconds, and that made all the difference."

Your stomach flips and churns as you listen to her.

 _The Princess... really almost died..._

But she's safe now, and you have to remind yourself of that much.

Still, it doesn't stop another sob from working its way out. She gasps softly and pulls you in.

"I'm sorry, Izetta. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No..." you sniffle. "N-No, Princess..." You clutch at her upturned palm, slipping your fingers between hers. She kisses your temple and nuzzles your hair affectionately.

"After I woke up... they told me the war was over. Because of what you'd done. There was so much relief and joy. My soldiers could finally go home to their families to help them start repairing the damages. It really was a dream come true..." She pauses, inhales, then exhales.

"But... you didn't wake up. They said it was possible... that you never would. But I refused to believe it. I knew that you'd... that you'd eventually come back to me... So I came by to sit with you every day. I'd hold your hand and talk to you for hours...

"A-And it's been hard to wait all these weeks, never really knowing if you'd... ever open your eyes again..." She wipes her eyes, and her smile wobbles. "But you finally have... You've come back to me, Izetta... _thank you_..."

"Princess..."

The tears start up again, and you're choked by the thickness in your throat.

Silence falls for many moments as you both lean into each other. Your entwined fingers squeeze tighter to hers as you rest your cheek on her shoulder. She kisses your bangs again, brushing her nose against the shell of your ear before she kisses you there, too.

"I can't ever... thank you enough," she whispers. "I know I said it before, but I truly mean it, Izetta. I can't properly express my gratitude for everything you've done for Eylstadt. For _me_... You won a _war_ for us, and you saved many lives. Including mine."

Her words conjure up the awful memories of that battlefield, of the horrible things that had happened to her, and the even worse things that had almost happened.

"Princess... you saved my life so long ago. B-But as I said before, I... I didn't only fight for your country out of obligation. I did it because I... because I love you, a-and I wanted to see our dream come true together."

"And now," she breathes. "Now you finally can."

Your eyes shimmer, and you nod happily.

"Yes!"

You hug her once more, weeping softly into her collar. She holds you as best she can as she is now, stroking her fingers through your hair, rubbing over your aching back with a healing touch. She kisses your cheeks in turn, then your nose. Her hand runs down your side and comes to a stop at your right hip.

"How do you feel?" she wonders. "You've been asleep for so long, and your injuries were serious..." Her grip on your nightgown tightens just a little. You ease yourself back, wearing a small smile.

"I'll be fine, Princess." You glance briefly down to your right side, the look to hers. "Now we match!"

She blinks, surprised, then smiles back.

"We do indeed."

You share a small, light chuckle.

Then, you share a smaller, and lighter kiss.

You feel her breath against your lips, and lean in to feel hers.

You haven't kissed her in so long, but your body hasn't forgotten this familiar feeling. It all comes naturally now as you bump your mouth against hers lovingly. You tilt your chin slightly to one side as she leans in a bit closer.

When you part, your eyes meet hers once again. She reaches up to wipe your tears, clearing them away with her thumb, then replacing them with her lips.

She kisses you over and over, until you can't help but giggle. You nuzzle into her chest and hug her around her back.

For a moment, you're both still again.

You breathe against her, savoring every breath. There is freedom in every inhale, and elation in every exhale. You can feel her heart beating softly against your chest, proof that this is reality.

You keep close to her, until you find yourself seeking her one last time. Her dazzling eyes lock with yours before they flutter closed.

You feel her lips on yours once again, and you promptly decide this is something you want to keep feeling every day for the rest of your life, so long as she'll have it. And you know she always will.

In the past, you'd doubted time and again that she'd ever want you of all people.

But now you don't doubt anymore.

You _know_ that you're all that she wants.

And that is a feeling you simply can't describe.

As you ease away from the kiss, you exhale, breath fanning against her lips. The meaning of the kisses themselves ensure no words are necessary. But you want to say it anyway.

"I love you, Princess..."

She nods, closes her eyes, and smiles more brightly than the sun can shine.

"I love you, too, Izetta."

She leans back against the headboard, and you lean against her.

Sleep is coaxing you now with its soft, warm combers, guiding you back into a tranquil slumber. But you struggle against it as best you can, your grip on her hand tightening again.

"I don't... want to fall asleep yet..." you protest. "I want to... to stay awake... to stay with you, Princess."

"It's all right," she soothes. "Sleep, Izetta. You've been through so much."

"But..." Your voice trembles a little this time. "But what if... if I-"

"You won't lapse into another coma," she assures you. "But even if you did, I'd never stop waiting for you to come back to me. Never."

Relief floods through you. You know her words are nothing but the truth. And you're confident you'll wake again soon.

"I want to... wake up in the morning... tomorrow morning..." you mumble.

"You will," she promises. "And when you do, I'll be right here beside you. I always will be. From now on. I won't leave you ever again, Izetta. I'll be with you."

"Princess..."

Emotion flares up in your chest, warm and fuzzy. It makes you smile.

"Thank you..."

You feel another kiss as your eyelids finally fall shut.

For a moment, all you can hear is the soft rhythm of her heartbeat, and all you can feel are her caressing fingers.

Then, sleep takes you gently by the hand, and promises to bring you back to her in the morning.

Because it's finally over.

The battles have finally stopped, but a new life is beginning.

The war has ended, but a new future is going to start.

You're going to see the dream you'd promised her, and the one she'd promised you.

She's going to show you, and you're going to show her.

You're going to see it come true.

Together.

Starting tomorrow.

* * *

 **A/N: Obviously, this isn't how the show ended. But at this point in time (when I'm posting), I just had an idea like this and wanted to share it. Instead of Izetta possibly having to die for using the Stone, I imagined there might still be some way for her to use the leylines. Just the fact that she was born a witch gives her that ability in this story (coupled with her intense feelings of love and the desire to protect Fine).**

 **The soldier who attacked Fine is also a made up character. The man with glasses and Sophie are either dead or out of the picture here.**

 **But this story isn't over yet! If the anime ends well and gives me some more ideas, expect a few more stories. But even if it doesn't end favorably, I still have an ending in mind for this fic anyway, so there will be at LEAST one more chapter, and probably more than one if the anime is good to us.**

 **Please review!**


	9. Your Name And Hers

**Sorry for the wait on this one! I wanted to finish the whole story first before posting the last few chapters, but now it's all completed!**

 **This chapter and the ones following will continue going off this story's plot/scenarios, rather than the anime's (just so it flows). So some events are altered and occur for different reasons, or not at all.**

 **The fight in the previous chapter was the final fight that ended the war, and the events that will follow will be based off circumstances of this story, not the anime (for example, how and when Izetta loses her magics, and the Stone isn't mentioned in this fic, since the anime introduced it after I'd already started writing).**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

* * *

Your Name And Hers

You wake, just as she'd promised you would.

You wake, and she is there, right by your side, sleeping soundly. You're curled up into her side, her healed arm draped limply across your back, while the one in a cast still rests across her chest.

She's breathing softly, a sound that has long-since become familiar to you. Her scent wreathes around you, filling your lungs, chasing away the residual ache in them.

As soon as you realize it isn't all just a dream, you feel the tears begin to well up right away and can't help but sniffle. The relief of reality floods over you, and you're reminded of everything.

 _It's all over. It's really..._

You can feel the whimpers hiccuping at the back of your throat and quickly lift a hand to your lips to stifle the sounds. But you're not surprised when she stirs a moment later, roused no doubt by the sense that something isn't right with you. Just as you are hypersensitive to her distress, she is an expert at detecting yours, even when she sleeps.

Sniffling, you watch as she opens her eyes. Part of you wishes that she would've slept a little longer. But the other part is just happy she's still here – with you – and you're overjoyed to see her waking up beside you once again, like she has so many times before.

Lilac pools are revealed, and you're convinced they've never looked quite as beautiful as they do now.

You smile, trying to show her that your tears are good ones, but you forget that your hand is shielding your mouth from view.

So her initial reaction is understandably concern. She gasps softly and pushes herself up a little, drawing you in closer with her good hand.

"Izetta... what's the matter? Are you still in pain?"

First thing in the morning, the first words out of her mouth are concern for your wellbeing. She hasn't changed a bit, even after all she's been through.

But the war is won, and you wish she'd stop worrying, just for a moment.

You shake your head promptly, letting a few tears slip down in the process.

"N-No! Not at all, Princess. I'm just... I can't believe it's really over... it almost feels... too good to be true." You try to chuckle, but it ends up as a partial sob. You can taste the warm salt on your smile as you wipe your lips.

When she understands you're not in pain, she relaxes visibly, and her eyes soften.

"I see. I'm glad that's all it is." Gently, she coaxes you closer and presses a warm kiss to your forehead. "But it _is_ real, Izetta. It's real. I can promise you that."

Your heart seems to lift, and a rush of elation pushes through you.

"Yes, Princess!"

She kisses away your tears one by one, making her way down to the bridge of your nose and across each of your temples. You giggle as she moves her lips to your cheeks in turn, and you lean in to brush your nose against hers.

She hushes the last of your fading sobs with a kiss to your lips, tender and light, as though she's being wary of your still-recovering injuries. But you quell those fears of hers by pushing in a little, making the kiss fuller and more certain. She sighs, and doesn't pull away until you're ready to.

For several minutes, you relish one another's warmth and presence.

You've lain with her before, but never like this.

Up until now, it's always been on anxious nights or uncertain mornings in the heart of the war. Never before in the peaceful aftermath.

There is a new feeling in the air, a lightness that's difficult to describe.

It's the sense of... finality, a catharsis of sorts. The sense that you don't have to get out of bed and go fight today. The sense that you don't have to kill anyone else, or risk your own life. The sense that she doesn't have to do anything rash or perilous, either.

It's a feeling you've never known before.

This is the first time in your life you've ever experienced anything quite like it. The morning of the first day where you won't have to fight or be afraid.

It's something you know you'll never forget for as long as you live.

This morning, the two of you take things slowly. After all, there is no rush any longer – no need for her to make it to any conferences, no need for you to be at any battlefields.

Despite the aches and pains left over, you manage to sit up first and help her. You both take your time sliding your legs over the side of the bed, leaning on one another for support as you go through the shaky process of standing.

Of course, it isn't long before Lotte and Bianca arrive and hurry to assist you both.

From there, it's a lot of gentle chastisement from the both of them, urging you two to take things slowly.

Bianca announces she's got to bring your princess elsewhere for the time being, as she's due for another checkup for her arm and her healing ribs. Lotte offers to keep you company, and hurriedly leaves the room just for a moment to fetch something. When she next enters, she is pushing a wheelchair.

It isn't until you see it when you realize just how numb your body still is. Until now, you've been more focused on enjoying your princess' kisses and her touch.

But now that Bianca is helping her to her feet, her presence leaves your side, and you begin to feel the effects of your actions from nearly one month ago. Without her beside you, you can feel every little ache, every little pang, and the way your bones seem to creak and push out against your skin.

Inadvertently, you make a small sound of pain as Lotte helps you into the chair. Your princess pauses to bend down and kiss your cheek, promising she'll come see you again as soon as she can, before Bianca leads her out. You watch her go as Lotte settles you into the chair.

Though you can move your arms, and torso, everything below your waist is all but numb.

For a moment, you fold your hands into you lap and look down at your legs, mostly hidden beneath the white fabrics of the nightgown. You can see your feet, but when you try to move them, nothing happens.

An unsettling feeling passes through your chest.

But before you can dwell too long on it, Lotte announces she's taking you to breakfast. That draws attention to the fact that you haven't eaten in a month, and suddenly you realize how hollow your stomach is.

She pushes your chair, bringing you down the hallway until you've reached a small dining room. The scent and sight of food admittedly makes your mouth water. All of the freshest breads and fruits are laid out on the table, alongside warm, flavorful soups.

Lotte excitedly brings you there and inquires what you'd like to eat, advising you to start small.

In days prior, you'd woken up and immediately needed to prepare your weapons to fight.

But this morning, your only job is to fill your stomach with Eylstadt's finest foods.

All day long, you are made only to relax and take things easy.

Of course, Lotte rambles on happily about all of the most recent news of what's going on in the world.

But most of all, she tells you of the extensive praise the people of Eylstadt have been singing for you. That is by far your favorite part of this so far - getting to hear of all the lives you've saved, all the tomorrows you've forged for them and allowed them to have.

Around noontime, Bianca and your princess arrive once again, bringing the news that her cast will finally be removed in a few days. Your cheeks lift instantly into a smile.

"That's wonderful news, Princess! I'm glad you're recovering."

"Thank you." Her eyes are bright, but they can't help but shimmer with worry as they travel down to your legs. You can tell she's just as uneasy as you are.

But luckily, a soft nudge from Bianca snaps your princess back to her senses. "Oh, right! Izetta, there's something we've got to show you!"

Surprised, you tilt your head.

"Something for me?"

"Yes! I'd wanted to be with you when you saw it." She nods to Lotte, who readily gets into position at the handles of your wheelchair.

Bianca leads the way, with your princess close behind her. You watch as she walks, noting a slight spring in her step, demonstrating her excitement about whatever it is she has in store for you now. A surge of eager anticipation rises up in your chest as you're wheeled along behind her.

After a few minutes of walking, Bianca pauses at a closed door. Your princess steps back to stand beside you, her eyes fixated on the door as Bianca unlocks it. You feel a soft hand on you shoulder.

"Here," she murmurs. "This is what I've been wanting to show you, Izetta."

At her cue, Bianca opens the door, and Lotte rolls you inside.

The room you find yourself in is just another office in the palace, but it looks nothing like the others.

The tables and desks are laden with colorful gifts, flowers, and letters. There must be hundreds of items placed here, everything from bouquets to little stuffed animals, all tied with ribbons.

Lotte brings you over and stops you beside the table, allowing you to look over its contents. Your princess follows, keeping close to your side, a bright smile on her lips.

Your gaze travels over everything here, taking in every item before ultimately looking to her.

"Princess... what is all of this...?"

And the smile she blesses you with is lovely enough to make flowers bloom.

"They're for you. Everything here... is for _you_ , Izetta."

It's strange, how the swell of emotion bubbles up and gathers behind your eyes. Touched, you direct your attention back to the table of items.

"For... _me_...?"

She nods. "Yes. All of these gifts and letters are from the people of Eylstadt. They've been sending things for nearly a month now, for every day since the day you ended the war. They wanted to show their deep appreciation and love for you, Izetta. They wanted to thank you for giving them the chance to decide their own tomorrows."

And the tears start falling. You can't stop them, and for once, you don't really want to.

The fact that the people would go out of their way for you - to offer you gifts and send you letters - astounds you.

Being a witch was once the worst thing you could imagine in life. For so many years, you'd hated yourself simply for being born as you were.

But now, it is undoubtedly the best gift you could have asked for. Your being a witch had brought you to her, to your princess, drawing you together as only fate ever could have done. It's allowed you to save thousands of innocent lives, and defend that which is most precious to you.

You cry there, before all of the gifts the people have sent for you. Your princess kneels down before you and wraps her good arm around you gently, kissing your temple.

She holds you until the tears come to a stop.

Upon lifting your head, the others begin handing you your presents, one by one.

You spend the remainder of the afternoon holding every stuffed animal, smelling every flower, reading every letter. You soak in every word they've written to you, appreciating the fact that every letter is from a different individual. Some have been written in flowing cursive with a feather quill and dark ink, while others are lopsided and colorful. You're certain to keep the letters on your knees, so that the tears won't drip down on them and make the ink run.

The afternoon hours dwindle away, until the sunlight shifts and begins to fade behind the distant horizon.

By the time the room is dyed in orange, you've finished reading the last heartfelt letter. You wipe your eyes for the umpteenth time as your princess embraces you once again. You thank her for showing you all that's here, and she responds with another kiss.

From there, the four of you attend supper together and enjoy yourselves.

A short while later, after you've had assistance with bathing and changing clothes, you find yourself back in your princess' bedroom. Bianca helps you up and into bed while Lotte fetches two glasses of water to leave on the nightstand. Your princess thanks them both for everything, and you do the same before they are dismissed for the night.

Your princess ensures you're comfortable lying in bed before she eases onto her back beside you. You were certain to request the correct side of the bed, so you'll still be able to cuddle up to her uninjured side.

And as soon as she's settled, you waste no time in doing so.

You drape your arm across her stomach, idly curling your fingers into her opposite side. She kisses your head and strokes gently through your hair, treating you as tenderly as she always has, as though you are the most precious thing in the world to her. You return the kiss with one to her collar, over her heart.

You lay beside one another that night, as you've done so many times before.

Only this time, it is without a fear of tomorrow.

* * *

The days afterward are just as peaceful, if not more so.

Every day, Lotte helps you get around to your meals, and brings you outside to breathe in the fresh, calm air of the courtyards.

Your princess visits you every day, and spends every second she can by your side, in addition to every night. By the end of the week, her cast is removed, and though she's still a bit stiff with her movements, she's almost entirely healed.

You're relieved for her, but a little dismayed that the same can't be said for yourself.

Despite numerous visits and treatments from the doctor, you still haven't regained the feeling in your legs or feet. And the truth is, no one knows if you ever will.

It's a distressing thought, but you consider it the best possible outcome in all of this. You still have your life, and your princess still has hers, as does everyone closest to you both. If your legs are all that need to be sacrificed in order for the bloodshed to finally end, you'll gladly accept that.

Naturally, the possibility that you'll never be able to walk again distresses your princess to the point of tears. The day you tell her of the diagnosis, she drops to her knees in front of your wheelchair and sobs into your knees.

It's all you can do to keep your composure as you hold her shaking shoulders. You're upset at yourself for making her cry again, in this world where peace has finally come.

Therefore, you vow to make it up to her tonight.

So as soon as the door closes after Lotte's exit, leaving you and your princess alone together, you enact your plan.

She's just finished brushing through her luscious hair and has turned to brush yours for you. You spare a moment to enjoy the feeling of the bristles gently tugging through your hair, tickling the back of your neck, leaning slightly back against her touch.

But you don't allow yourself to get too relaxed. You remind yourself there's something you've got to do tonight.

She finishes with your hair and puts the brush aside, then slips her arms beneath yours. Resting her chin on your shoulder, she sighs and pulls you back against her chest, looping her arms around your stomach.

"All done," she murmurs. "Are you ready for bed?"

You're torn because of how wonderful it feels to be so close to her like this, warm and comfortable against her chest. But you wiggle a little to shake yourself out of it.

"Actually, Princess...?" Timidly, you look up and back, seeking her eyes. "There's something _I'd_... like to show _you_ , this time..."

"Hm?" Surprised, she loosens her grip and allows you to sit up on your own. "Show me something? What, exactly?"

You sit back and lift up your hand, a silent request for her to give you a moment. Curiously, she stays quiet and waits patiently.

You dip your head, closing your eyes as you draw in a deep breath.

Since you've woken up, you haven't dared to even make an attempt at conjuring up your powers. Your excessive overuse of them during the final battle had all but depleted your abilities and dried up the ley lines to the point of eternal uselessness. Even now, you can sense that almost all of the magic of this world has been decimated.

 _Almost_ all of it.

There is only a small fraction left, and you'd been able to sense that. Up until now, you've let it linger.

But now, you call upon that flicker of magical energy that remains. A faint green glow shimmers in your palm, and you hear her gasp.

"Izetta-"

But you open your eyes and give her a soothing look.

"It's all right, Princess."

Slowly, you drag yourself to the edge of the bed, where a broom Lotte left behind leans against the headboard. With a tap of your fingers, it glows briefly green before conforming to your will and taking up a horizontal stance, afloat beside the mattress.

But before you can make another move, you feel her hand on yours, keeping a firm, worried grip on you.

"Izetta, what are you doing?" Her eyes are ridden with panic. "You... You shouldn't be using your powers anymore. I... I didn't even think you still _could_..."

A sad smile plays across your lips, but you shrug it off.

"I didn't think so either. But... there's a bit left. Just a bit." You reach out and clasp her hands in yours, squeezing in earnest. "Princess... I'm certain... this will be the last time I'll be able to use my powers. So please, come with me. Just one last time."

Another soft gasp falls from her lips, and her eyes begin to water at the finality of your words. You feel a sting inside your chest as well, but you can't waste time regretting things. Not anymore.

Slowly, you lift up her hands and bring them to your lips, kissing the backs of each of them. She does her best to compose herself and fight off the tears, drawing in several deep breaths.

You wait for her, as you always have, as you always will. When she's ready, you look up to her once again, as her eyes bore into yours.

"Izetta..." She ducks her head into her shoulder, letting her nightgown smear the tears away. "Are you... are you in _any_ pain? Does using you magic cause you _any_ distress at all?"

You readily shake your head.

"Not at all. I don't feel any pain, Princess."

"Are you sure? You don't feel lightheaded?"

"No. I'm perfectly fine! So please, Princess. Come with me."

You gaze up into her eyes, your own wordlessly expressing your honest feelings to her. She's uncertain for a moment, but after taking another breath, she relents.

"All right. But you must be careful. Should you start to feel weak at any time, you _must_ stop right away. Understood?"

She is firm with her words, but only because she's scared for you. You can't really blame her. You dip your head.

"Of course, Princess. I promise you I'll stop if I feel any pain at all."

Only then does she seem satisfied.

She squeezes your hands before slowly rising to her feet. She helps you up, supporting the majority of your weight as she helps you onto the broomstick. Once you're seated and hovering four feet off the floor, the numbness in your legs doesn't matter anymore.

With a smile, you open your arms invitingly to her. She's careful with her movements, ensuring she doesn't bump her feet against yours by accident. You pull her into a familiar position, holding her securely across your lap. One hand reaches out over her stomach to hold onto the broom, while the other supports her back. She loops her arms around your shoulders, pulling you just an inch closer to herself.

You remind yourself you've been out of commission for over a month now, and even igniting your magics again presently feels foreign to you. It's bittersweet, knowing it will be the last time, but it's just another minor sacrifice in light of all that was salvaged.

Slowly, you move the broom towards the windows. Another small tap unhinges them, pushing them wide open, letting in a gust of cool, refreshing night air. Both of you take a moment to breathe it in, sighing happily at the taste of freedom.

You ease toward the quiet world outside, but pause above the sill as she gives your shoulders a squeeze.

"Izetta... are you sure you're all right?"

You strain up a little to kiss her cheek, blushing shortly afterward.

"I'm sure."

And she trusts you.

With a kiss to your temple, she consents to the rest of what you have in store.

So you fly, for what you know to be one of the last times. Out into the forest beyond the palace, into the cool calmness of the night.

The songs of crickets fill the air, accompanied by the rush of wind from your flight. You hear her delighted gasp, knowing she's only allowing herself to enjoy this because she knows it isn't hurting you.

Coyly, you steal a glance to the side, admiring her from this angle. Her pearly white skin shimmers in the silver moonlight, which provides an even more breathtaking glow to her streaming tresses that flow out behind you. Your white nightgown flutters along with hers as you enjoy the feeling of the air breezing past your face, and you're sure to savor it.

Speckles of green dust particles trail behind you, the last of your magics that is fueling your midnight flight. But you can discern how much you've got left, and it's enough to enjoy this for just a little while longer.

So you take full advantage of it now, temporarily forgetting your technical immobility, but understanding this will be the last time you'll be able to move on your own like this.

But you can't even find the time to be sad about it.

Because she's just so _happy_.

To finally be flying together with you like this, carefree, just as she's always wanted to.

You'll gladly use the last of your powers to make her childhood dream come true.

She hasn't taken her eyes off the scenery since you've left the palace. You know this is all enthralling for her, and it enchants her just as effortlessly as she enchants you.

She hugs you a little closer, allowing you to rest your head against her collar as she presses her cheek to your head. Like this, you can easily make out the sound of her heart as it beats, quick with unbridled excitement and joy.

You listen for several minutes as you continue to fly, keeping the speed slow and leisurely as you make your way through the trees.

Gradually, you take the two of you up above the forest, giving her a wider view of the world above and beyond. Mountain ranges stretch out before you like shadowy waves of a massive sea. The trees are highlighted and outlined in the moonlight, making every single one of them visible, despite your distance from them.

And above that is another ocean, one of silver stars.

You hear her make another sound, the kind of sound a child might make upon seeing a white horse with a horn at the center of its head.

You wonder if that's the same sound she'd made when she'd first caught sight of you in the forest so many years ago.

You bring her higher, aiming for those mountaintops, some of which are haloed with snow.

Your flight is liberating for the both of you, but you soon begin to feel a little dizzy. Softly, you nuzzle into her neck, gaining her attention. Silently, your eyes tell her you plan to find a place to land, and she nods right away.

It's not much longer before you select one of those mountaintops, one that's void of trees this high up. A small carving of sorts cuts out a space where no snow powders the rocks, and you briefly wonder if the indentation was made by your own hand, when you'd once brought missiles crashing through these lands.

Slowly, bit by bit, you ease down, all while she whispers encouragement into your ear with a kiss.

When you're close enough to the solid mountaintop, you let her hop down first. She reaches up to steady you, taking you into her arms, one hand around your back and the other beneath your knees. You let the broom land in the grass below as she lowers herself, and you along with her.

Once you're both safely situated, she relaxes into your side, keeping one arm around your back. You reflect her position and put a hand across her back as well.

Just as you've always done, you lean against one another, and keep each other up.

The view of the world is ethereal, shrouded in wisps of silver clouds and golden moonlight, the tips of other mountains and their sprinklings of trees still visible. The moon hangs overhead, full, quiet, and observant.

And it's so wonderful to know there won't be anything to ruin this silence; no distant explosions or flashes of bombs, no gunfire or the blasting of tanks.

Just this. Just her.

You both hear it and feel it as she expels a small sigh, and briefly, a prickle of worry trickles down your spine.

"Princess? Are you all right? I know we're a bit high up. Can you breathe properly?"

You're used to such elevation, but you know she isn't. But to your relief, the thinness of the air doesn't seem to be bothering her.

"Nothing like that," she soothes you, straightening up a bit to meet your eyes. "I was just thinking about something."

Curiously, you tilt your head.

"About what?"

A smile forms on her lips, one that's almost mischievous in a way; it gives you get flashbacks to the time she pounced on you in a tickle fight.

"Oh, just about one little thing..."

You feel a flicker of heat in your cheeks as you inquire.

"Wh-What exactly might that be?"

She giggles in amusement, then gets to the point.

"We've known each other for quite some time, haven't we? Ever since we were little. And after all we've accomplished... after all we've been through..."

She tapers off, a wistful glaze going through her eyes, and you know she must be remembering all that's happened within the past few months.

It seems that she gets lost in thought for a bit longer than she'd intended, so you clear your throat to bring her back to the present. She looks back to you, and the playful glint returns to her eyes.

"Izetta... after all of this... you can call me by name, can't you?"

It certainly isn't what you'd been expecting, but it causes your face to heat up nonetheless.

"E-Eh? P-Princess-"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" She puffs out her cheeks into a small pout that's almost criminal in how adorable it is. "You've never once called me by name, even after all this time."

She then loses the more playful tone and becomes a little more serious. "I'm not trying to force you," she assures. "But I just want you to know that, if you'd feel comfortable in doing so, you can call me by name anytime, Izetta."

Your mouth dangles open for a moment as you try to comprehend everything.

You've never really thought about it before. She's always been your princess, and you've always addressed her as such.

To call her anything less formal... you can hardly fathom it.

"P-Princess... I-"

"As I said, you don't have to," she repeats. "But... we've got a special relationship, wouldn't you say?"

You can see a light pink dusting on her cheeks now as well. She tucks a lock of loose hair behind her ear and leans in to kiss your cheek sweetly. You let out a happy whimper at the contact, while your mind begins to buzz.

Of course. How could you never have considered it until now?

She's absolutely right. Your relationship is special. You're more special to one another than you are to anyone else in the world.

She deserves to hear her own name – from your lips.

She doesn't ask for much – not just for herself, anyway.

You believe _this_ is something you can give her. And it's something _only_ you can give.

So you conjure up the courage and take a deep breath. Your eyes flick down to her lap, then slowly make their way up until they've found hers. And your voice wobbles out on a whisper.

"Princess... Finé..."

You notice the way she reacts, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips just a little bit, as her eyes light up with interest. She reaches out and cups your cheek, and you can't help but lean into her palm.

"No need to call me Princess."

You swallow, close your eyes, and try again.

"Fi... né..."

"Less mumbling. You can say it with pride."

"...Finé."

"Yes, that's it!

"Finé."

This time, you open your eyes and look straight into hers, and you say it without hesitance.

" _Finé_."

"Yes!"

She all but squeals with delight, and her eyes shimmer like amethyst crystals in the moonlight. Her reaction is so joyous, so irresistibly enraptured that it makes you want to say it again.

"Finé!"

"Izetta!"

And in her heartfelt mirth, she can't help herself. She leans in and kisses your lips, and you're excited and alert enough to return the contact properly. When you part, you say it again for her.

"Finé!"

"Izetta!"

And the next kiss ensues.

You soon find you've fallen into a pattern of sorts, and every time the two of you pause for breath, you're reciting each other's names before your lips are drawn together once again.

These kisses are different from the ones before. There is no fear hanging over them, no terror that you might someday lose one another.

Now, it's only bliss, joy, and love.

"Finé..."

"Izetta..."

The kisses are their own magic.

In only your names, there is so much more that is unspoken. Your saying each other's names gives voice and meaning to emotions that cannot be described.

Your names tell your stories.

Your hardships. Your triumphs.

Your losses. Your love.

As the night goes on, the moon watches over you both. Perhaps it keeps count of how many times you've kissed, because you have lost count long ago.

Somewhere along the lines, she begins to giggle again, and you follow suit.

The tears that follow are not for sorrow, but for something much softer, something much better.

By the time the moon has shifted its position, you both fall silent. She's resting her forehead against yours, catching her breath as her hands turn over in yours. Her tears drip down into your lap, and yours into hers.

When she looks up and eases back, she reaches up to run her nails lightly through your ruffled bangs. You smile and reach out to rest your hand against her scarred hip, leaning in to steal one last kiss for now.

But it's gotten late, and even though she's assured you she isn't affected by the height, you don't want to risk her getting lightheaded.

Especially after all the air she's just lost kissing you.

And you can feel the last of your magics waning, so you know it's time to use them.

You grasp her hands and find her eyes once again. A sad smile forms on your lips now.

"Finé... this will really be the last time... The flight back to the palace will use up the last remnants of my magics. After that... I won't be a witch anymore..."

For a second, the idea frightens you.

You've _always_ been a witch, and though at first you'd been hated and feared for it... in recent months, you'd come to celebrate it.

People now _loved_ you for being a witch.

So you're scared that losing your powers will result in a loss of their faith in you as well.

But just as she always is, she's quick to dash those fears.

Finé throws her arms around you once again, pulling you into a tight, passionate embrace.

"I don't care," she breathes. "Witch or not... you'll always be _my_ Izetta."

Your heart jumps in your chest, and a tiny sob chokes you up for a second. You reach out and cling to her back, dipping your face into her shoulder to let the tears fall.

"And you'll always be _my_ Princess..."

She nods in affirmation.

"Yes. _Always_."

You hold one another for a moment longer, until the tiniest yawn works its way out of your mouth. Finé giggles at first, then finds herself yawning as well, and then it's your turn to chuckle.

For the last time, you reach out and enchant the broom.

And just like before, she helps you onto it, then lays across your lap.

And for the last time, you lift the two of you up, on what will be your final flight home.

Holding to her as you'd done before, you slowly make your descent from the mountaintop, going slowly so she can adjust to the change in air pressure.

Before long, you're back in the forest, bound for the palace.

But the fact that this will be the very last time you ever fly with her truly settles in, and you make one last-minute decision.

Rather than fly straight back to the palace, you veer off through the woods until the trees part and give way to a wide, shimmering lake. The water glows in the moonlight, rippling softly as you dip down to soar over it.

She gasps in bewilderment, likely also remembering the time you'd first met and taken an accidental dip together.

You glide down close to the water's surface, allowing her toes to dip in a little as the glow of green magics dance close behind you.

The moments engrave themselves into both your hearts, soon to become precious memories you'll never forget.

Finally, you can feel the magics dwindling until there is only so much left. You gather it up and catch her eye, giving her a bittersweet look. She nods willingly, accepting it, and you take her back up.

You fly the last bit of the way to the palace, back to the open window you'd left from.

And just as the broom lowers itself inside, the last flicker of magic fades behind you.

And you don't look back.

Finé holds you once again as she lowers herself in her landing, making sure you're secure in her arms. Then, she carefully carries you back to bed, lying you down onto your back.

She lingers there beside the bed just for a moment, gazing down at you with an emotion you'd once been too nervous to recognize.

But now you're not afraid to admit that it's love.

"Thank you, Izetta."

She leans over you and presses another kiss to your lips, making you feel like the princess.

When she draws back, there are tears brimming in her eyes, though her smile comes from the heart.

In the faint haze of the moonlight, her nightgown glows, her hair shines, her skin glimmers, and her eyes sparkle.

You gaze up at her, committing this almost diaphanous image of her to memory. You reach up to take her hand, brushing the pads of your fingers over her knuckles.

"Thank you... Finé..."

Gingerly, she gets into bed beside you. You can tell she's about to shift upward, so you can rest your head on her chest as you so often love to do.

But tonight, you have a silent request.

You tap her hand, and when she looks at you again, she seems to understand right away.

Tonight, it is she who rests her head on your chest, comfortably and softly. Because you've just been overcome with the urge to hold her close.

Finé understands this, and she wants to let you feel what that's like, just as you've always let her feel it.

She must know you're hurting a little inside. After all, your magics are gone now, and they're never coming back.

You've lost your magics, you've lost your ability to walk, you've lost so many people along the way...

But you still have her.

She wants to be certain you know that.

So she curls up at your side and presses herself to you, and you hold her as close as the physical world allows - though you're certain that on an emotional, intangible level, your souls are eternally entwined.

And that feeling, that closeness, that love...

That is the only magic you'll ever truly need.

* * *

 **A/N: Again, sorry for the wait on this chapter. It was a little tricky to rearrange events of the anime but still incorporate them into this story's plotline. I definitely wanted to keep their midnight flight. It was so gorgeous. I've just tweaked it a bit to fit into this story.**

 **And I'm also so very glad the anime made a point of never having Izetta call her by name until the end, when it was most impactful. All this time I was praying they'd do something like that.**

 **That's why in all previous chapters of this story, I've only ever had Izetta refer to her or think of her as "Princess". But now that she calls Finé by name, the narration will also address her as such, from the first time in this chapter and onward for the rest of the story. It's so refreshing the anime waited to let Izetta call Finé by name. I'm glad I got to do the same in my writing!**

 **Please review!**


	10. When Morning Comes

**From here on out, you'll find out how Izetta and Finé will be living their lives now that Izetta no longer possess any magical abilities.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

* * *

When Morning Comes

The second you are conscious, you can tell right away that something isn't right.

But it's not an immediate or crushing sort of panic.

Finé lies beside you, breathing softly, still wrapped in the combers of sleep. She is all right, so already, the sense of dread is cut in half.

When you inhale, you can't feel any congestion or pain, so you know you aren't sick again. There are no loud, uninvited noises, no explosions from outside, no yelling - nothing of the sort.

It takes you a long moment to realize exactly what's wrong.

Rather than noisy and active, the world actually seems... a little less lively. Or a lot less, when you really think about it.

Because the magic is gone.

You can't feel it anymore – not even an ounce of it. The ley lines that once pulsed with subtle magical energies are now stagnant and can never be refilled.

You've never realized it until now, but you'd always been able to sense that energy, even when your powers weren't activated. There'd always been _something_ there beneath the ground, like the veins of the earth radiating with life force.

But now it's gone.

That isn't to say the planet is dying, it's just... dishearteningly less magical.

And you knew this would happen. You'd known from over a month ago, when you'd started tearing the ley lines up from the ground and using them as your weapons, pouring out every last drop of magical energy that was left. All except for the bit that had allowed your final flight with her last night.

You'd felt it yourself, watched it yourself, as that final glow of green dust had faded. You just hadn't... _actually_ expected it to be true.

But now, there is no mistake. The magic is gone, and it isn't ever coming back.

Perhaps, that is for the best.

And yet... it feels like a part of you has died. Something that's always been there for as long as you've been alive. Something that's always surged with life and energy. Something that's protected you and the people you love.

It's all gone.

So you don't even make an effort to prevent or stop the tears this time.

They aren't heavy or bitter tears, and they don't call for loud sobs and wailing. You weep softly into your pillow now. The ache that fills you is akin to feeling as though you've lost something that was never really yours to remember.

Softly, quietly, you tremble beneath the blankets.

And of course, it's only seconds before Finé is stirring, turning herself over to face you, her eyes already open and full of worry.

"Izetta?"

Right away, before she can ask, you shake your head.

"Finé... the magic... _it's gone_..."

And that's all that needs to be said. She understands.

So she opens her arms, and you drag yourself into them, burying your face into the side of her neck as she caresses your hair, hushing you gently.

"I'm sorry..." she whispers, as though it's her fault. "I'm sorry, Izetta..."

You shake your head, sniffle, and cling more tightly to her nightgown.

It's a quiet, fragile morning as she helps wipe your tears away, kissing the warm trails they've left behind on your cheeks.

By the time Lotte knocks on the door, it's hardly discernible that you'd been upset at all.

Together, Finé and Lotte help you into your wheelchair. Once you've been changed into finer clothes, you're brought down the hall for breakfast.

And as soon as you see all of their smiling faces, and hear their familiar voices, you forget all about the absence of your magics.

* * *

The next several days and nights pass by much the same as the ones before them have.

When Finé is called away to attend work and business, Lotte steps up and takes on her roll as your official caretaker.

She brings you around the courtyard gardens, letting you enjoy the warmth of the sunlight and the scents and sights of the flowers. Much of the property had been damaged in the war, but over the weeks since you've woken, you've been able to watch things repair themselves bit by bit. The charred grasses and bushes are coming back to life, the little buds and bulbs are beginning to pop up once again.

But today, Lotte has a surprise for you. She stops rolling your wheelchair beside a bushel of plants that are just beginning to regrow.

"Izetta-san!" she chirps. "Would you mind waiting here for just a moment? I've got to go and fetch some things."

You're curious as to what exactly she could need to bring all the way out here. Lotte isn't a forgetful girl, so you can assume she'd been planning to do this all along. So you smile and nod.

"Of course."

With that, she dips her head and scurries off across the grass.

This is the first time you've been left alone outside since the war has ended. You lean back, tilt your face to the sky, and close your eyes.

You can no longer feel the tickle of magical energy flowing around you, nor the flow of it beneath the earth any longer.

But you can feel something else.

There is a different kind of energy.

It's much more natural, much more subtle, but it's there.

It is the energy of growing things, the energy of life itself.

You can feel the plants as they struggle to push their way up from beneath the soil, feel the tiny seeds as they stretch their roots far below the surface.

Everything is in motion, everything is alive.

Feeling as much brings you comfort and relief.

You savor these feelings for a few minutes until Lotte's footsteps bring you to open your eyes once again. She's carrying a bag full of supplies, and when she stops next to you and opens it, the contents are revealed.

Little garden shovels, gloves, bags of seeds and all other tools.

Your eyes widen just a little, and the smile is forming on your lips just as she makes her declaration.

"Izetta-san, how would you like to help me do some gardening today?"

A wave of joy and nostalgia rises up in your chest.

"Yes! I would love to!"

After weeks of being bedridden, and constant professional confirmation that you'll likely be an invalid for the rest of your life, this is exactly what you've needed.

A purpose, a job, something to _do_. Now you can feel useful again.

Carefully, Lotte helps you out of your chair and onto your knees in the grass. She ties an apron around your back to prevent your clothes from getting too dirty, then hands you a pair of gloves.

You spend several hours of the afternoon sewing new seeds into the gardens. You always feel bad to cut away or dig up the dead plants, but the satisfaction of planting new ones that have a much better chance of flourishing is twice as high.

By the time you've both finished, a good section of one of the gardens has been redone, the soil smoothed out and concealing lively new seeds just inches below.

When your stomach starts to rumble, Lotte helps you back into your chair and cleans everything up, then rolls you back inside. After a bath, you're dressed in your nightgown and brought to supper, where Finé is just arriving as well. A smile lights up on her face instantly as she makes her way to you and sits beside you for the meal.

Rather than talk about the business she's been dealing with, she wants to hear about _your_ day.

And for once, you're more than eager to tell her about it.

She's enraptured by the idea of your gardening with Lotte, and you can tell she's relieved that you aren't feeling upset over having nothing useful to do around here.

But there is a slight anomaly about her demeanor, something even you can't place right away. She seems almost nervous somehow, but it's so fleeting you can't really be certain it's there at all.

You mean to ask her about it later before bed, but by the time she enters the room and lays down beside you, you're already half asleep. You can't be bothered with anything more than pulling her into your arms and pressing close, and it's clear there's nothing else she'd rather be doing, either.

You kiss goodnight, and sleep comes more quickly than usual.

* * *

The next few days are much the same.

When the sun is out, Lotte takes you to the gardens to plant. When it rains, you spend most of your time in the library reading books, or in the office once again appreciating all of the gifts the people have sent you.

It is on a rainy day like this when a knock comes on the office door, and to your surprise, Finé steps in. You turn your chair around to face her as soon as you can.

"Princess!"

You still tend to call her by title when other people are around. She smiles back and makes her way over.

"I thought I might find you here. Do you think you could come with me for a while, Izetta? I'm finished with my work for today, and there's something I want to show you."

"Again?" You look around the room at all the flowers and letters. "More from the citizens?" you guess.

But she shakes her head.

"No. This is something very different. Something you'll know right away when you see it."

There's a hint of excitement in her tone and a sparkle in her eyes. It rubs off on you and makes you eager to see what she wants to show you.

"Then yes. I'm not doing anything in particular for the rest of the day."

"Excellent." She walks behind you to grab the handles of your chair, then calls over to Lotte. "Lotte, you're relieved of your duties for today. I'll be staying with her."

"Yes, ma'am!"

With that, Finé begins to push you across the room, then out the doors Lotte holds open for you. As she brings you down the hallways, you try to relax, despite your excitement.

"Finé?" Now that you're alone, it feels much easier to call her by name. "Can you tell me what it is?"

"Hmmm..." She contemplates with that charming little hum of hers. "Nope! You'll just have to wait and see!"

"Okay..." You pout playfully, and she reaches over to pat your head.

She brings you to a door you recognize as Bianca's office. She knocks, and seconds later, Bianca opens the door.

"Please come in."

Finé wheels you inside and stands next to you. Though you haven't the slightest clue as to what's happening, Bianca seems to know. She dips her head respectfully and excuses herself from the room before you can say a word. Tilting your head back, you seek lilac eyes.

"Finé... What's going on?"

"It's just like I'd said," she explains. "I've got something to show you. Well... perhaps now I should say some _one._ " She crosses the room, and your eyes follow her to another door.

"Someone?" you parrot. "A person is here to see me?"

"Mmmm not exactly." She turns back, winks, and then opens the door before her.

You can't see much of what's inside, but it looks very simple. There's only a small couch and a few chairs, but there are plenty of blankets and rugs on the carpet.

Before you can ask more questions, Finé steps inside and out of sight for a moment. You can only hear her now, her voice soft and gentle as she murmurs inaudibly to the supposed occupant of the room.

You can't possibly imagine who's inside. The room is exceedingly humble, considering it's part of the royal palace, and there's no reason as to why Finé might keep any guest waiting in such a room.

Eagerly, you lean forward in your chair, trying to catch a glimpse. You can just see the back of her dress and discern she's kneeling. A few seconds later, she stands once again.

"There we go. I know Izetta will be thrilled to see you, too."

At last, she turns back and approaches you once again, and the mystery is revealed in her arms.

Your jaw drops while at the same time your lips rise up into a huge smile, your eyes going wide as an excited little beat passes through your heart.

A small, chubby, brown-and-white dog sits in her arms, also smiling with her tongue lolling out. Finé walks back over to you, cradling the dog before kissing the top of her head.

You're speechless for a long moment as Finé kneels down in front of you now, cuddling the little old dog just as her name finds its way back into your memories.

"Dorotheé..."

The dog's ears perk up and she yips softly. Finé laughs.

"Yes, that's right! You remember her!"

"O-Of course I do! She was always with you..."

Naturally, you reach out your arms in a silent request to pet her. Finé leans forward and carefully transfers her into your lap. Another surge of joy rushes through you as the little dog sniffs your hands in turn before licking them.

"Dorotheé... I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"I can't believe it hasn't come up all this time," Finé says. "But there's just been so much else going on until now. That's Dorotheé's room." She nods back to the door in the wall. "We used to let her roam around the palace, but she's getting old, and she likes to sleep. Bianca or one of the maids always take her outside every day, but somehow, in all that's been going on, you two have just always missed each other."

By now, the corgi is rolling over in your lap, and you gently run your fingers over her soft belly.

"Wow... so all this time she's been alive... I'd always thought..." It seems wrong to say it now that you know it isn't true. But Finé catches your eye and nods in understanding.

"I know. But she's a tough old girl! Last month when the Germanians bombed the palace, everyone thought for sure she'd been killed. But after the war ended, and repairs were put into action, someone found her running around the perimeter of the property. She must've escaped somehow and was hiding out all this time until it was safe." She reaches out to scratch the old dog's ears. "I know it's been so long. But I thought you might like to see her. And it's clear she remembers you, too."

"Yes. She's a very smart girl. I'm glad she's all right."

For a moment, you both sit there and spoil the dog, rubbing her belly and scratching her ears as she tries to lick you both at the same time.

Finé soon stands and wheels you over to a nearby couch. You easily slip out of the wheelchair and settle on the cushions as she helps you get comfortable. Dorotheé turns over in your lap and is asleep in minutes.

Finé pulls you in by the shoulders and coaxes you to lean against her for a moment. You close your eyes and let out a sigh of content as your hands lazily stroke through Dorotheé's fur. You feel a kiss being pressed to your temple, then a breath against your ear.

"You know," Finé murmurs. "Dorotheé is getting old. Living in the palace is getting too hectic for her. There are always people moving about, important guests coming over, and there isn't much space for her here. It doesn't seem fair..."

"I'm sure she doesn't mind!" you assure her. "Dorotheé is just happy to be around you and the people who love her!"

"I suppose that's true."

You can't see her face, but you can hear a hint of sadness in her voice. Another moment of silence ensues. You hear her exhale again, and it's shaky. Briefly, you recall the nervous look you'd seen in her eyes before and can assume something is still bothering her. You straighten up a bit, pulling away from her so you might see her face.

"Finé... Is something the matter?"

You know her well enough to expect her to brush it off and deny it.

But whatever's troubling her now must be so burdensome she can't even manage to do that. She flashes you a guilt-ridden look, and it sends an immediate pang of worry through your chest.

"Izetta... Dorotheé isn't the only one at risk staying here."

You feel your shoulders slump; you'd thought it might be something like this.

Finé reaches out to take your hands in hers, tracing the pads of her thumbs over the backs of your knuckles.

"As I said... there will be people coming in and out much more frequently in the future. Eylstadt is going to be making many new trade partners and allies. And we just can't risk people seeing you. Do you know what would happen if they did?"

She leaves it open-ended for you, but your mind can easily fill in the blanks.

If people discovered you now, hiding away in the Archduchess' palace, confined to a wheelchair instead of soaring around using your magics to defend the country, they'd surely take an interest.

Like the Germanians, they'd want to run experiments, find a way to call back or reuse the magical energies you've lost, find out ways to breed more witches and create more weapons for battle.

You hate to think that some of the people of her country might be this way, but you know it's far too likely to be the case. When human beings encounter something they've never been exposed to before - something new and powerful and harboring great potential - their natural curiosity kicks in.

They want to learn about it. They want to use it. They want to exploit it.

They want to show other humans that _they_ are the most powerful.

To some degree, it's a matter of self-preservation and protection.

But it very quickly and very easily becomes something much less understandable than that.

If anyone outside the palace sees you here, there'd surely be an uproar, not only in Eylstadt, but all across the planet. The world would want to know more about the descendant of the White Witch who had singlehandedly ended the war.

All in all, it wouldn't be a very pleasant future for you, for Finé, or for anyone else.

Once you've considered it, the clarity must begin to show on your face, because she soon continues in a quiet voice.

"People would be at our doorstep daily, demanding answers. In fact, it's sort of been this way ever since you ended the war. Until now, everyone has assumed you've been in recovery. We're keeping up the act that you're still in a coma. Only the palace workers and staff here know the truth.

"But the citizens are getting anxious, Izetta. It's a gamble to keep telling them you're unconscious. If you stay asleep forever in their minds, they might take it as a symbol of defeat, that their savior during times of war never woke up. It will cause grief and prove to be disheartening."

She pauses, takes in a breath, and looks down to the floor. "That's why... we've been coming up with something to tell them in order to keep them happy, and to keep _you_ safe."

She stops again, and you know she's troubled simply by considering the idea, let alone saying it out loud. To help her find her conviction, you reach out to squeeze her hands this time.

"Finé. It's okay. Please tell me."

For a moment, she wavers, teetering on the borderline of uncertainty until she steels herself at last.

"We plan to tell the people... that you've finally woken. That you've seen their gifts, and appreciate their support and love with all your heart. We'll take a photo together, you and I, just to prove to everyone that you're really awake and well. That will revive their hope."

That word sinks into your heart. All this time, Finé has been your hope, from start to finish. You'd never really considered that _you_ might've been the hope of the people of Eylstadt. It makes you smile, just a little bit, before she goes on.

"However, after we release the photo, we're also going to release a statement. From you. We plan to tell Eylstadt and the rest of the world that you don't feel it's right to remain here. That you've done what you'd intended to do. That you've served your purpose.

"But you don't want magic to have any influence on humankind any longer. Magic has already interfered far too much in our history than it ever should have, and you don't want to risk it happening again.

"So that's why... we'll tell them you've chosen to go away. Very far away. Somewhere... where magic won't be able to have an influence on human beings any longer. This way, the people still know you're alive. Their _hope_ is still alive.

"But _you_ won't be at such great risk. If they know you – as a witch – have gone into hiding, they won't bother to go through the effort of looking for you. The few who do will think you've gone off far away, and they'll never find you."

She takes another breath, and finally lifts her face. "They _won't_ find you. Because you'll be staying here. On palace property. Just... not within the palace itself."

It's a lot for her to explain, and a lot for you to take it. Clearly, she's been thinking this plan through for a very long time now, and she's gone through such lengths as to fill in every possible crack.

Telling the people you've woken and appreciate their support will keep them happy. Showing them a new photograph of you will prove you're alive and well.

Declaring that you plan to go into hiding makes sense, coupled with the proclamation you don't want magic to interfere with human history any longer. The people won't _know_ you've already lost your magics, that you can't even fly, that there are no magics left in this world. They won't be able to see you fly off; you'll simply disappear without ever being seen in person again.

But you'll still be alive to them, a fleeting mystery, a wondrous heroine.

It's all making sense to you.

All except one part.

You shift a little closer to her on the couch, careful not to rouse Dorotheé in the process. You move in until your shoulder brushes Finé's, allowing her to lean against you a little.

"Finé... That sounds like a very effective plan. I understand every aspect of it. And it really will keep me safe, and keep the people satisfied. But... about that last part... I won't be able to stay in the palace anymore...?"

Your voice is full more of confusion than of hurt or anything else. She doesn't lift her eyes to meet yours when she nods in response.

"Yes. I've discussed it with everyone, and we think it's for the best if you... don't stay here. As I told you before, there will be many people from neighboring countries visiting from now on, sometimes for days at a time. And we can't just lock you in a room somewhere like a prisoner. I refuse to have someone frantically hide you and lock you up every time an ambassador or representative comes here...

"There is a small house located on the property. It's been there for many years uninhabited, but it's still in pristine condition. It was built to be a safe house, mainly for myself if I ever needed to quietly go into hiding for a few days, but still stay near enough to the palace to be able to conduct business. But I think it's best if you were to go there now. I hope you understand, Izetta."

Her words make perfect sense. You wouldn't want to be paraded away and kept in a room for days on end until her visitors left.

Your presence in the palace would always provide a risk that someone might stumble upon you, when you were supposed to have left human civilization. Not only would it cause problems for you and for Finé, but likely for all of Eylstadt as well if the rest of the world found out the small country was keeping you secretly.

Retiring to a small, quiet house that's far enough away to keep you safe, yet close enough to keep you near _her,_ sounds like the perfect solution.

And so you accept.

"Yes. I understand perfectly, Finé. This is what's best for everyone."

Softly, she gasps and lifts up her head, lilac eyes swirling with shock and grief.

"You... Izetta... a-are you sure? You... just like that, you agree to these terms?"

"Yes! If you think this is what's best for me and for everyone, then it must be! You've thought it through for a long time, I can tell. And it sounds like the perfect idea to keep everyone safe and happy. So I'll gladly accept it!"

You say as much with a smile, and squeeze her hands once more.

But she's almost in disbelief, and she's yet to show such happiness.

"Izetta... Are you sure you...? I... I just..." Again, she looks away, and you really wish that she wouldn't.

But you soon realize it's because there are tears dripping down into her lap, onto the backs of your hands.

"I didn't want you to think I-I'm doing this because... y-you're a burden... or because you... you've served your purpose to us, and now you're no longer needed... that's not it, Izetta..."

Her voice tapers off, and the sobs surge up her throat, raking her body. With a whimper, you lift your hands and wrap your arms around her, pulling her in close.

"Finé..."

Obviously, the possibility that you'd think she might be trying to get rid of you, or hide you out of embarrassment for what you've become, has been eating away at her for days. She'd probably meant to make this proposal a while ago, but couldn't bring herself to do it for fear of your reaction.

She's always been putting you before herself and her own feelings. That hasn't changed in all this time.

You stroke through her hair and allow her to hide in the crook of your neck. She stifles her tears and weeps into your clothes for a moment, until you're certain she's calmed down enough to listen to you.

"Finé... I don't think that at all. Perhaps, in the past, I might've felt that way. I might've felt you were trying to get rid of me because I was a burden to you..."

Again, she shakes her head, just to try and tell you that's not how she'd intended it. You hug her closer, soothing her fears with a whisper.

"But now I know that's not the case. I _know_ that, Finé. Because... Because I know that you love me just as dearly as I love you. A-And I know that... you'd never think of me that way, because I'd never think of you that way, either."

This time, she nods against your shoulder, her hands reaching out to clutch at your sides.

"Yes..." she sniffles. "That's exactly it, Izetta. I-I would never want you to think... I was only doing this to get rid of you. I was so scared... you might think that was the case. I was so scared you might... resent me or..."

"Never!" you cry out. "F-Finé, I would never-!"

"I know." She swallows and draws in a deep breath. "I know that now, Izetta. And I'm sorry for ever doubting you. For ever doubting you'd understand. Because I know how much you love me, how much you trust me. I've _always_ known. I'm sorry..."

"It's okay."

By this point, you're sniffling too, and a few tears have slipped down onto the back of her dress.

You both take a moment to compose yourselves, breathing together, chest-to-chest, until your heartbeats match. When you ease back, there is finally a smile on her lips.

"I'm so glad, Izetta. The cabin isn't as luxurious as the palace. But Lotte's been having lessons with our chefs during her free time. She's going to take good care of you. And you'll be able to care for Dorotheé in return."

"I'd be honored to!" you grin.

"And don't worry. You can still go into town. You'll just need to wear a hood or a hat. But no one will suspect who you are, especially once we announce that Izetta the White Witch has gone away. We plan to send out that news on a day when you'll be in town with Lotte, so people will see you when word goes around. The both of you will just be two more surprised, unknowing citizens with bittersweet feelings about the witch's departure."

"That actually sounds like it could be fun," you muse.

"And don't worry. Everyone within the palace who knows the truth about you has been sworn to secrecy. Should rumors start circulating or if anyone betrays that oath, they'll be sent away, and I personally will advise the people to disregard whatever they might have heard. That's how serious we are about this matter. That's how serious I am about keeping you safe."

You're touched by that notion in particular. You know none of these trusted and loyal people by her side would ever betray her or you, especially not with this plan. But to know that, if someone did, that Finé would personally dismiss them without a second thought, even after years and years of companionship...

It speaks to just how much she loves you.

She'd never just loved you because you were the White Witch.

She's always loved you because you are _Izetta_.

You can't think of any words of gratitude to say to her for that.

So you merely pull her into another embrace. She rests her chin on your shoulder and continues speaking - soft, wistful.

"You may have to stay in that house for a while. Perhaps even a few years until everything has quieted down. This was a stupendous victory on our part, so I know it's going to be the center of political events for quite some time now.

"But I'm not going to keep you in that house forever, Izetta. Once things have quieted down, once we've figured out a way to tell people, we'll reveal the truth to them. We'll show them you've come back, but lost all of your magics, that magic doesn't exist any longer in this world. We'll wait a while, until a time when such news won't have such a major or chaotic effect on people. They'll take it with a grain of salt, but most of all, they'll just be happy you're back, even if it's not as a witch.

"But you'll still be their heroine, and in time, you'll return to them. Until then, you get to relax. To live a quiet life away from all the excitement and politics. You'll be free to do whatever you please, and Lotte will help you do it."

"Mm, it sounds wonderful. It really does..." You sigh into her hair, but your smile soon fades. "It's just..."

You feel her tense up right away at the notion of your hesitance.

"What is it?" she asks.

You let out a timid whimper.

"I'm... going to miss you, Finé..."

Another beat of silence passes, and you assume she, too, is regretting her future absence in your life.

That is, until she starts to chuckle softly.

Puzzled, you sniffle once and pull back, your tone raising with the question.

"Finé...?"

"Oh, Izetta!"

She smiles and tenderly cups your cheeks with both hands. She leans forward and rests her forehead against yours, bumping your noses together.

"Izetta... you didn't think... we weren't going to be able to see one another at all, did you?"

You sniffle again, swallowing it down to try and remain composed.

"W-Well, I... Since you're going to be so busy... a-and I'll have to start living a new life, I thought-"

"Izetta!" She cuts you off by pulling you in to another hug, cradling the back of your head and petting your hair gently. "Izetta. I would never arrange all of this for you without the intention of coming to see you as _often_ as possible.

"When Lotte takes you into town, I'll know about it either from the guards or I'll see you going myself. If I'm free at the time, I'll disguise myself and go as well. How easy it'll be for us _total strangers_ to _accidentally_ bump into each other and spend time together at the marketplace, or at the lake, and no one will suspect a thing!"

As she mentions each thing, it makes perfect sense in your mind. She's disguised herself a million times before when going into town, and only ever had her true identity revealed once by accident.

But she's absolutely right. You two will be able to meet up outside palace property just about whenever you please.

"And," she continues. "As we both now know, my guards will follow me if I venture out. So they'll always be close by. You'll have nothing to fear."

She cranes her head, brushing her cheek against yours to press a gentle kiss to your temple. "And that certainly isn't all, Izetta. In town isn't the only place we'll be able to meet. The house isn't a far walk from the palace. Ten minutes at most. I'll be coming to visit you whenever I have a free moment."

She eases back a little bit more, until you're able to see the determined honesty in her eyes. "And I really do mean that, Izetta. Every moment when the opportunity presents itself, I'm going to come see you. I can promise you that."

Here, she lets one hand drop down into your lap, reaching over Dorotheé's sleeping body to find your hand. She coaxes your fingers apart just enough so she may loop her pinkie around yours.

"I promise," she repeats. "That I will come and see you _every_ chance I get, Izetta."

She seals that promise with a warm kiss, one where you can feel the smile on her lips, but still taste a bit of salt from her tears.

This future she's proposing is a bit of a complicated one, but it's going to be the best option in order to keep the both of you safe.

She will be able to work as she needs to, and you will be able to live a quiet, peaceful life.

As a human. Just as you'd always truly wanted.

Of course, it will be difficult not to sleep beside her each night, or be around her quite as often as you are now. But you believe you can make due somehow.

When the kiss finally ends, she pecks your nose, keeping her voice as light as the contact.

"And of course, you'll be able to visit me here whenever it's possible. While there will be many times I'll be away or when I'll have people visiting to discuss important matters, there will be just as many times when the palace will be as quiet as it is today.

"Of course, you'll be able to come by whenever that's the case. We can still walk through the gardens together and have our meals together. We can still _be_ together, Izetta. It'll just be a bit more of a challenge."

And if there's anything at all the two of you have proven by this point, it's that no challenge can stand between you.

If forbidden magic, political chaos, and an actual _war_ haven't managed to keep you apart, a few lonely nights and a ten-minute walk can hardly be considered obstacles.

She's done most of the talking until now, and you feel it's only right if you respond, to make sure she knows you've been listening and that you agree with her ideas.

"It... almost sounds like it could be fun," you muse. "Going out to meet up in secrecy. Only seeing each other when no one else is around."

When she sees the smile on your face, she allows her own to stay.

"It's rather romantic, isn't it?"

"Yes!"

A mutual chuckle fills the space between you, and before long, your foreheads are pressed close once again.

This time, you initiate the kiss, a seemingly small action, but one that reassures her of your willingness to accept all of this.

She squeezes your hand a little harder, keeping your pinkies entwined as she lifts them up to her chest. It isn't much, but you can just barely make out the feeling of her heartbeat fanning against the back of your hand.

As the kiss comes to an end, she sighs, letting some of her anxieties go with it.

"It isn't going to be easy," she admits. "I'm going to miss you. I'm going to worry about you. Just as much as you'll miss and worry about me, I'm sure."

You bite your lip to keep back another wave of tears, but nod your agreement.

"Yes... But I'll do it. I'll do it... because it won't last forever. And even if it did, I'd continue to do it if it's what's best for us."

"It won't last forever," she reassures you again. "But thank you, Izetta. I'm so relieved you're all right with this, and that you understand my reasoning for doing it."

She lifts your hand from her chest to her mouth, tattooing the creases of her lips into those of your palm. At the same time, you lean in to tuck a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear, kissing her cheek in the process. Her voice reaches your ears once again, reserved and steady now.

"And don't think you'll be spending so many nights alone. I'll let you stay here with me as often as possible. On quiet evenings, you can have supper with me as always, and we'll stay here. Lotte can always take you back to the house in the morning. Or I'll make my way to you whenever I can to spend the night. Even if it means I need to sneak out." She winks a little mischievously, causing you to blush a bit.

"F-Finé, you don't have to do that..."

"But I will!" she assures you. "For you, Izetta, I absolutely will."

"...Thank you."

"And on nights when I can't be there, Dorotheé will keep you company." She pats the dog's head, scratching one of her ears. "We'll make it work, Izetta. And of course, if there's every anything you and Lotte need, all you have to do is send us a call and we'll have it sent over right away. The house may be small, but it'll come with all the same services, benefits, and protection we experience here in the palace. So you won't ever need to worry about a thing."

"I know," you reply. "You're going to so much trouble for me, Finé."

"I'm sorry if I'm repeating myself. I just... I want you to know how serious I am about this, Izetta. I'm going to do _everything_ within my power to keep seeing you as often as possible. I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't feel left out or-"

You silence her with another kiss. Whatever fears and fretful things she was about to address melt away between your lips. She sighs again as you pull her close and keep her there.

"Finé. Don't worry. I know you'd never purposefully do anything to make me feel sad. I know you'd never do anything to make me feel unwanted. You're always trying so hard for my sake. You do everything you can for me, and more.

"And I know you'll _always_ do whatever you can for me. Because I'd do the same. Because... I love you, a-and I know you love me, too."

You feel her draw in a deep breath, then let it back out.

"Th... That's right..." she whispers. "It's because I love you, Izetta. I love you so much. I... should tell you that more often."

"You don't have to tell me," you remind her. "You show your love in everything you do for my sake. Just like this new arrangement. That's an embodiment of your love for me, and I understand that. I can't begin to thank you enough, Finé..."

"You don't ever need to thank me," she murmurs. "Izetta, you've saved my entire country. You've saved so many lives, not just mine. You've done more in a few months than thousands of people could have done in years. You did all of that... because you love me, and because you love Eylstadt. I'm just trying to do my best to show you my love in return."

"I understand. I can feel your love, Finé. Every second of my life, I feel it. Whether you're there beside me or not."

"It's the same for me, Izetta."

Your eyes meet hers, and for a long, long moment, everything you've ever been through together flashes through your minds.

From the moment you'd awoken on that airplane and grabbed her hand...

To the time you'd first stepped foot into the palace...

To the time you'd gone to town and eaten pie with her...

To every battle you'd ever fought for her...

From the first fight to the last.

Everything you've been through together since you'd met so many, many years ago as children, when you'd pranced through those grassy meadows, walked beside those colorful lakes, and danced inside that dusty old barn.

Every painful, sorrowful, fearful memory...

Every magical, emotional, ethereal experience...

Every warm, affectionate, tender moment...

It's all there - if not in her eyes, then in yours.

You feel her palm on your cheek and move yours to her hip, leaning closer until you can feel her breath tangle with yours.

The kiss is strong and certain, setting it apart from many of the others you've shared in the past. You want all of them to feel like this from now on.

At long last, you've finished discussing everything, and conveying all you've needed to. With great care, you curl your arms around Dorotheé's sleeping form and lift her from your lap, gently transferring her into Finé's arms. She dips down to give the dog a brief kiss as well before she gets up from the couch and carries Dorotheé back to her room.

A moment later, she is back by your side to help you into your wheelchair. Once you're settled, Finé lingers, gazing down into your eyes. Her hand comes up to your face, fingertips brushing your bangs to the sides a little. She looks like she wants to say something, but you can read it in her expression easily enough.

 _Everything's going to be all right_.

Once you know what she means to convey, you return her soft, reassuring gaze, hoping she'll understand the same thing.

It's going to be rough at first, getting used to that new way of life without her always so near.

But it's a very plausible prospect, one you'll soon both get accustomed to, by the sounds of it. Time and repetition ensure that even the most foreign of routines can become familiar before long.

But you've still got one night left with her here.

She wheels you back to her bedroom, where she helps you change clothes, and then changes herself. She brushes your hair for you, wets a cloth in the sink, hands it to you so you may wash, then brings you back to bed.

Once again, she helps you up and onto the mattress, where you curl immediately into her side. She strokes down your back, rubs your shoulders, and kisses your cheeks.

Your last night together like this feels the same as any other, only with much more meaning.

You savor it, relish it, engrave it into your very soul.

And then, when morning comes, you'll start heading towards a new tomorrow.

* * *

 **A/N: The next chapter will be the last.**

 **Please review!**


	11. Ours

**Finally, I've had the time to edit and post the final chapter! It was a long time coming, but I would say it's worth the wait. Thank you for your patience and support!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.**

* * *

Ours

Even though Finé had told you the details of her plan in advance, it had still been incredible, exciting, and a little nerve-wracking to live through it all as it came true at the time.

Palace guards had gathered your belongings in addition to extra previsions and necessities, and carried them to the cabin in the night to avoid detection or suspicion of any kind. They'd cleaned and refurbished the place in preparation for your eventual arrival, ensuring every inch of the place was intact and functioning properly.

Finé had warned them that if there was so much as a draft, she would be disappointed.

By the time Lotte, Finé, and yourself had ventured out into the forests and made your way to the cabin, the place had been absolutely immaculate. Every light, every pipe, every piece of it in general worked perfectly.

You can still remember that day very clearly.

How you'd first gazed upon the little place from the outside, and taken in the arrangement of things inside for the very first time.

How you'd thought you might never get used to living here, no matter how hard you tried.

Never knowing you'd soon know this place better than the back of your own hand.

You'd be able to make your way around, even without Lotte's help most of the time.

You'd be able to do so many things you'd never expected you could still do without the use of your legs.

You'd soon learn how to help prepare meals, how to clean the place up, how to play with Dorotheé.

You'd learn there was so much you could do here, so much more than you'd ever imagined there could be.

But you'd known none of this at the time, on that very first night.

The three of you had made dinner that night, despite how Lotte had insisted Finé not trouble herself. But she'd eagerly helped out anyway, declaring she wanted a hand in preparing your first meal here.

She'd stayed with you for supper that first night, to ensure the atmosphere was comfortable and familiar. But in the end, she'd needed to go.

Saying goodbye to her that first time had been difficult, and even until this day has never gotten easier.

You can still remember exactly how she'd done it, how she'd knelt down before you, cupped your cheek, gazed into your eyes, and promised to return as soon as possible. She'd sealed that promise with a kiss and a gentle embrace, one you'd held onto for far longer than necessary, but she hadn't seemed to mind.

And then she'd left you.

You'd had no idea how many more times you'd have to watch her go after that.

But you still vividly remember each and every one.

It's been three years since then.

Three years, twelve seasons - every time you think about it a little differently.

So much has happened over those three years.

As Finé had planned, Lotte had started taking you into town, under a disguise of course. A large sunhat, veil, or scarf would cover your notable red hair, depending on the season. Lotte would always be sure to change her clothes and hair style to remain unrecognizable as well.

Just as Finé had planned, you'd both been in the marketplace on the day the most exciting news had started going around.

You can still remember how people had started gasping and talking so quickly about the fact that their White Witch Izetta had finally awoken from her coma, how she deeply and greatly appreciated and enjoyed the gifts they'd left for her.

But also too, how she'd made her declaration that she needed to go somewhere far beyond human reach.

Being in the middle of it all, you'd been scared of how the people would react.

Some were angry and upset with the witch, going so far as to accuse you of abandoning them. But they were few and far between.

Overwhelming numbers more seemed to accept your decision.

They'd talked about how magic was too powerful, too destructive, too threatening in the wrong hands. They'd been endlessly thankful for your assistance to them during the war, but felt it best to agree with your decision to leave.

You can still remember the relief you'd felt living in the moment Finé had described to you.

The photograph you'd taken together with her to prove you'd truly woken up had been printed on the front page of every newspaper. And seeing it had made your heart sing much more than ache.

Because even though the words on the page had proclaimed you'd said your bitter farewell to her, you'd seen her again for supper that night.

And many more to come.

Just as she'd promised, she came by to see you every possible chance she got.

Sometimes, she'd run breathlessly through the forests, only to see you for no longer than a minute, before hurrying back. Those were always nice little surprises.

But your favorite times she's visited are, and have always been, the times she's stayed extensively.

When her work was all finished, she'd stay for the afternoon, rain or shine.

You always found something to do together, whether it was tending to the gardens in the summertime, going for a stroll around the lake during the spring and fall, or simply cozying up by the fire inside during the winter.

When the colder months in particular rolled around, she always went out of her way to get you to the palace more nights than the cabin. You'd enjoyed many feasts there with her and the others, just as you always had. The warm, amiable atmosphere and the scents and tastes of delicious food never failed to delight you.

But by far, your favorite part was always retreating to bed with her, curling up at her side beneath the layers of blankets, and falling asleep to the sound of her heart.

Despite the amount of time that has passed since that first day, you firmly believe there have been more nights that you've been together with Finé than not.

She'd often come spend the night with you in the cabin. Even though the bed was a bit smaller, it was still palace-quality, and very comfortable. You'd even deemed it acceptable for a princess to sleep on.

Having her there beside you on the first night she'd stayed had been almost surreal - having her still be such an intimate part of this life that had been so foreign to you at the time.

You'd never wanted her to stop being a part of it.

And she hadn't.

Not ever for longer than she could help.

There had been times when she'd had to go away, or even travel overseas for business and politics. Those weeks without her had been the longest of your life.

Though she'd always promise to return, you'd always cling to her for longer than necessary, and savor the feeling of her last kiss for as many days as it took until she came back to replace it with a fresh one.

Even when she was away, the press told you what she was doing, and it was always something incredible. You were always happy to support her from where you were, but your favorite part of her travels was always when she came back home.

She'd made it a habit from the start to spend those nights with you in particular.

If she arrived back in Eylstadt at night, she'd go to you before anywhere else, and climb into bed alongside you, sometimes without so much as a word. If you didn't wake up at the time of her entrance to hug her and welcome her back, then you'd be pleasantly surprised in the morning when you found her beside you, even though you'd fallen asleep alone.

If she returned during the day time, she was always certain to spend the rest of the afternoon with you, and wouldn't leave until the next morning.

Within the first few months, you'd gotten into the routine of this new way of life.

And it truly had been just like she'd promised.

For the most part, you believed you saw her just about as often as you always had, and in some cases, you saw her even more.

You can still remember every time you've been with her.

Sometimes, she'd just sit inside with you and talk.

Sometimes, she'd come outside to look at the garden you'd been growing, or help you tend to it.

Sometimes, she'd bring you around the lake, so you both might admire the sparkling blue water, and on warmer days, dip your feet in.

Sometimes, she'd wake up with you in the middle of the night and open the windows so you may look at the stars together.

You loved all of those moments.

Each and every one of them was a precious treasure, and a piece of your life.

But there was – and even to this day, remains to be – a fear at the very bottom of your heart.

The fear that one day, she might get tired of all this, consider it a hassle.

The fear that one day, she might have the chance to see you, and she'll just decide against it.

But that fear has never come true. Not once.

If you didn't see her running here yourself, you'd hear it from the palace workers the next time you went there. They always talked about how Finé would get all of her work done and then hurry off to see you, though of course she never let the quality of her work suffer.

And you'd also heard about the times when she'd been planning to see you, but ultimately, she'd needed to get something else done. Evidently, when that happened, she'd resolve herself to her work and get it done properly, but once it was finished, she'd always go to bed hiding a pout.

And whenever she did finally see you again, there was always an extra excited sparkle in her eyes.

All of that, and so much more, helped to dash your fears that she might one day get tired of all this – of you.

You'd always hated this feeling, because you know you're only doubting her feelings for you, and you know she'd never doubt yours.

But you just can't help it.

It is an innate fear. It is a _human_ fear.

But every day, for three whole years, she's relentlessly cut away at that fear a little more, bit by bit.

Every day she's come by, every afternoon snack she's shared with you, every night you've lain together, has helped chip away at that fear.

With each passing time you've seen her, it's dwindled away more and more.

She never once grew tired of you.

There had been a few times when she'd come to you, the very picture of exhaustion, and you timidly asked her if it was because of you.

And you can still remember how she'd gasp, more from horror than from offense, and adamantly deny it had anything to do with you. She'd ramble on about why she looked as tired as she did, and there was always a valid, work-related issue behind it.

She'd kiss you a few extra times those nights, hold you a little more tightly. She'd do absolutely anything it took in order for you to feel better.

Those were some of the nights when you'd cry together.

With the war long-since over, those emotional nights had been fewer, but when they did arise, they'd been just as poignant as ever.

She'd still break down sometimes, and you'd still get nightmares.

Those nights had always been difficult, and there had been a few times when you'd both had to spend them alone.

But for the most part, you'd been together, and you'd both always felt better by morning.

There had also been far more peaceful, kinder nights to enjoy.

Every once in a while, her more spontaneous side would surface, and she'd ask if you'd like to go for a midnight walk with her. You'd never once refused her.

She'd help you into your wheelchair and into any other clothes if necessary.

On the cool springtime nights, you'd both put on a shawl. On the warm summer nights, you'd stay only in your nightgowns and bare feet. On the chillier autumn nights, you'd put on coats and scarves. And on the coldest winter nights, you'd bundle up in everything you had.

But no matter the season, no matter the night, whenever you'd gone out together like that, the destination had always been the same.

The lake always glowed, even if there was no moonlight to shine down upon it. Some nights it reflected the sea of shimmering stars above. Others, it was dark and mysterious, wispy like the clouds.

She'd take you around it, however far you'd want to go.

Sometimes, you'd stop and stare for a while.

Sometimes, she'd crouch beside you, and kiss you for only the water below and stars above to see.

On those warmer nights, you'd sometimes asked her to help you out of your chair, so you may sit in the grass beside her.

Four times, you still remember, you'd both fallen asleep there, and had caused Lotte great panic in the morning.

Finé truly had spent every moment possible with you over those three years.

Sometimes, she'd go to town in disguise with you and Lotte, which was always an adventure. You'd eaten pie together many times with no one else being any the wiser.

Sometimes, she'd help you garden the vegetables in the plot beside the cabin.

Sometimes, she'd wheel you around the forests and the palace property on extended, peaceful walks.

She'd take you through grassy spring meadows, alongside colorful autumn lakes, and inside dusty winter barns.

In the summertime, she'd dance with you. Though she tended to do most of it herself, she'd always give your chair a little turn or tug, and before long, you'd always feel like you were up there, pressed close against her.

She'd started every shared morning and ended every shared evening with a hug and a kiss.

Every troubling farewell, every heartfelt reunion, and even every normal day in between had been the same way. There was never a time when you'd see one another that didn't involve a hug and a kiss, and on most occasions, many more than just one.

You'd always been sure to remind her of your love.

And she'd always been sure to show you hers.

You'd always feared that one or both of you might get tired of this way of living.

But on the contrary, it's always been surprising you both, delighting and enticing you, making you eager for more. You've always gone to bed wondering what kind of surprises tomorrow may bring.

Twelve seasons have passed by in this manner.

She's surprised you many times, and on occasion, you've surprised her.

But it is now, after three long years - when you believe she's already done all she _possibly_ can to surprise you - when she proves you wrong yet again.

* * *

It is the fourth springtime since you've come to take residency in the cabin.

Just yesterday, Lotte had taken you to see the doctor once again, as was routine.

It has taken this long, but your legs are finally beginning to get some semblance of feeling back.

The prediction is that it may take several more years of treatment before you're able to walk again. Or the contrary that things could regress, and you might be restrained to the chair for life. You've come to realize you're perfectly fine with either outcome.

You've gotten used to life this way. There is nothing that hinders or saddens you about being unable to walk. The people around you make sure to tell you every day how useful and wonderful you are, no matter what.

So, while the idea of possibly being able to stand and walk and dance again entices you, you don't anticipate such a future being set in stone. And that's all right.

This morning, you've just finished a pleasant breakfast with Lotte. The warm taste of biscuits and tea is still in your mouth, while your stomach is comfortably full. But there's still a bit of a knot to it, the kind that's always there whenever Finé is away.

She's been on one of her longer trips, five days now, and there's still been no word of her return.

By now, you've lost count of how many times you've gone through this, but it truly never seems to get any easier. You're still just as worried about her as the first time she'd left.

There's always a blanket of anxiety covering you while she's out of the country, despite the fact that she's always promised to come back to you, and has never once broken that promise.

She'd told you the same thing before she'd left last week, and she'd kissed you, same as ever.

She'd told you she didn't anticipate this trip taking longer than five days.

So naturally, now was when you started to worry.

Needing to distract yourself, you call out to Lotte in the kitchen, informing her you're going to bring yourself around the lake. When you hear the chirp of confirmation, you set off.

Lotte has grown quite a bit over the years, and she's gotten very strong, as well. She's now strong enough to lift you in and out of your chair with ease. But she also respects you greatly, and knows the degree to which you can take care of yourself.

She won't confine you to the house or forbid you from going out alone. She trusts you'll call if you need her, and you've sworn that you will.

You wheel yourself down the wooden ramp and into the flat level of short-cut grass. Dorotheé has been napping in the shade beneath the porch until now, but upon your arrival she stirs. The little old dog has lasted longer than anyone's ever anticipated, and there's still a lively spark in her eyes to this day. She waddles over, giving herself a shake, and you invitingly pat your lap.

"Good girl. Come here."

She pauses, bunches herself up, and jumps. She can only make it as far up as your knees, but you're ready. You grab her with perfect timing, then carefully pull her up the rest of the way. She whimpers happily, licks your hand, then curls up over the shawl in your lap.

As you continue on your way, you make sure to pause in your wheeling every once in a while to pet her.

Over time, you've come around the lake so often that a bit of a path has been beaten into the earth. Wheel marks of a thousand previous journeys are etched into the soil here, and even now, the wheelchair falls perfectly into them.

The water is calm and quiet today, only rippling slightly when a breeze passes through the forest. It calms your nerves a bit, makes you forget your worries for a while.

You can see little fish with their shimmering silver bellies darting about beneath the surface. Frogs croak a few times, then jump in. Turtles sunbathe on little rocks and logs.

You feel you can identify every creature that lives in or around this pond, considering how often you come here to watch it.

You stay out here for a while, until you decide it's about time for Lotte to begin worrying.

With a sigh, you turn away from the lake, and the worries start bubbling back up. Slowly, you make your way back to the cabin on the far shore.

You decide not to trouble Lotte with gardening today. You both did quite a lot yesterday, and today she seems focused on cleaning every little inch of the place.

So you settle in the kitchen with Dorotheé at your feet, and pass the time knitting. It's something Lotte introduced to you a few years back, something you'd gotten the hang of rather quickly. You've knitted scarves and hats for Finé, gifting them to her in the winter months, particularly when she'd need to travel. It's just one of the few little things you can do in return for all she's done for you.

You concentrate on the green materials in your hands for a while. Lotte has turned on the little radio as she always does on days you don't have company or plans to go out. The music helps you relax a little more, and when a song you know comes on, you hum along.

Dorotheé naps, Lotte cleans, and you knit, until noontime has long-since passed.

Presently, Lotte comes into the kitchen, satisfied with her cleaning job, and washes her hands in the sink.

"I'll start making lunch now. Is there anything in particular you'd like today, Izetta-san?"

You don't tear your eyes away from the work in your lap, but you hum a reply.

"Mm, not really. Please make whatever you'd like, Lotte."

"Yes, ma'am!"

As she gets to work, silence ensues once again, save for the music. You try to focus on the words, because sometimes listening to music allows your mind to transport to another world. Sometimes it lets you forget...

A bit of motion catches your eye just then. Dorotheé stirs from her nap, lifting her head as her ears perk up tall. She looks straight to the door and gives a rumbly little bark.

A gasp slips out of your mouth before you can stop it.

With the way Dorotheé is acting, you know it only means one thing. She never does this when Bianca or the doctor are coming to visit.

In a fluster, you put your craft aside on the kitchen table and hastily call out.

"Lotte! Please..."

The girl turns around, and it takes her a second, but she soon realizes what's happening.

"Oh! Yes, of course!"

She quickly removes her cooking mittens and hurries over to you, wheeling you across the house to the open front door. Just as she's bringing you onto the porch, you look out into the green forest to see whatever you can.

A young woman is approaching with a suitcase in-hand. She's wearing a flowing white dress, one that resembles one of her nightgowns – you know them all by heart – rather than something she wears for travel.

Her face is shielded by a large white sunhat, but even from this distance, you can make out her smile. Her long, luscious, golden hair carries out on the breeze behind her as she makes her way along the path her own two feet have engraved into the earth here.

The knot in your stomach untangles instantly, and instead you are flooded with a wonderful sense of relief and joy.

It is always upsetting to watch her go, but no feeling is better than the excitement of seeing her return.

When she realizes she's been detected, she knows there's no use in walking any longer. If she can't surprise you as planned by walking, then she might as well run.

So she does, all the way down the rest of the path until she reaches the edge of the house. She drops her suitcase there and hurries up the inclined ramp-

-and straight to you.

She falls to her knees, her dress and hair fluttering up all around her as she wraps you in her arms and pulls you close. You return the hug instantly as your heart starts to soar in time with hers.

"Surprise!" she whispers. "Though I guess you both found me out first."

"Welcome back, Finé!"

You nuzzle into her hair, sighing her name in the utmost relief as a few tears make their way down. She leans in closer to you, stroking through your hair with affection.

"I'm home, Izetta."

There's no greater feeling than this, than having her back in your arms at long last, and to be safe and warm in hers.

The fact that she's brought a suitcase along with her this time tells you she intends to stay with you for a few nights, so that gives you all the more reason to be exuberant.

You hold her for a long moment, savoring the way her heart thumps quickly against your chest. In all the years you've known her, there's so much that's never changed...

At last, when you're both ready, you ease back. She kisses your lips sweetly, briefly, then stands to greet Lotte.

"How did you know I was coming? I was trying to be quieter this time!"

"Dorotheé told us," Lotte smiled. "She's still as sharp as ever!"

"Oh, that little sentry of yours. Let me see her."

From there, Lotte goes to fetch the suitcase while Finé apologizes for dropping it in her haste. The three of you then make your way back inside, where Dorotheé is waiting eagerly for her mistress. Finé kneels down and scoops her up, coddling her to no end.

Lotte returns to the food and begins setting it at the table.

"You're just in time for lunch, Princess! Please join us!"

"I would love to. In fact, if it's not too much trouble, I think I'd like to stay over for a night or two. Would that be all right?"

"Hmmm..." Lotte taps her foot and puts on a contemplative expression. "Gee, I don't know. What do you think, Izetta-san? Should we let her stay?"

You can't help but laugh.

"I think we can allow it."

You and Lotte share a brief giggle, while Finé pouts a bit.

"Now it's _you two_ who are teasing _me_."

You apologize light-heartedly and invite her to her seat at the table. Unfortunately, you'd forgotten about the new green scarf you'd left there, and she finds it.

"Oh, is this your newest one?" she inquires, picking it up. "It's so soft!"

"Yes. I found some new material in one of the shops in town. I thought you might like this one better."

"I love it! Well, you know I love _everything_ you've made for me-"

"I know." You smile, stopping her before she can get too flustered. "I'm glad to make them for you, Finé."

She reflects the smile, then bends down to wrap her arm around your shoulders in a partial embrace.

From there, the three of you enjoy lunch together as she tells you about her travels.

It's taken this long, but it sounds as though everything is finally beginning to quiet down. All of the arrangements with foreign policies and treaties have finally been passed and come into effect. She's flown out to see all the people she's needed to see, she's said all she's needed to say, and done all she's needed to do.

"In fact," she says after a sip from her water glass. "This meeting was the last one. Starting from today onwards, I can finally settle down here in Eylstadt and lead properly."

You're so shocked by her revelation that you have to cough into your napkin a little bit.

You can't possibly recall just how long it is you've been waiting to hear those words.

As you compose yourself, you turn wide, incredulous ruby eyes upon her proud lilac ones.

"Finé... does... does that mean...?"

She smiles, but even that simple action causes her tears to drip down.

"Yes, Izetta. It means... I'm _finally_ through with all of this traveling. I don't have to leave Eylstadt anymore. At least, not quite as frequently." She reaches out to you under the table, finding your hands.

You're already sniffling before you know it.

"S-So, that means..." Swallowing thickly, you try to blink the tears back, but they only drip forward. "Y-You... don't have to leave anymore...?"

And she nods.

"That's right. Maybe every few months or so, but not like I have been for these past few years. I won't have to go every week, or even every month. People aren't going to visit the palace as often, either. Which is why..." Here, she turns her face, looking to Lotte as well. "I'd like to finally... _finally_ invite the two of you back to the palace. Permanently."

Lotte's reaction is to gasp, both hands flying up to her lips.

"R-Really, Princess? Is it finally time?"

"Yes." She dips her head. "I believe so, as do my associates. It will be safe for you both to come back. There won't be so much activity anymore. With the treaty I signed yesterday, it ensures none of the other countries' ambassadors will need to come to see me for a while now. I'm confident you two can permanently come back to the palace whenever you're ready."

Lotte is overjoyed, that much is clear.

But you can't even bring yourself to smile.

You're just... in shock.

Again, you'd never thought you would hear those words. You'd always just thought you'd be staying here for the rest of your life, seeing her every few days or every few weeks, sleeping beside her every other night if you were lucky.

Finé is happy about Lotte's reaction, but when she looks back to you, she is troubled.

"Izetta? Are you all right?" She moves her chair close to yours, keeping a firm hold on your hands as she settles beside you. "I'm sorry. I know this must be a lot to take in. I was so excited to tell you, I just did it right away without really thinking. Perhaps I should've waited-"

"N-No..." You shake your head vigorously, dislodging tears across the table in the process. So many emotions are swirling in your chest, you can't even name them all. "F-Finé... I... I..."

Slowly, you lift your tearful eyes once more to meet hers. Your voice wavers, and becomes almost inaudibly soft. "Do you... really mean it...? May I... come back with you...?"

This time, it is she who is rendered temporarily speechless. Her jaw drops a little before she manages to close it and find her words again.

"Izetta... of course I mean it. _Of course._.." She pulls you into her arms once again, letting you hug her shoulders as tightly as you dare. "Izetta. I'd promised you from the beginning that I wouldn't make you stay here forever, didn't I?

"I know three years has... been a _long_ time. I'm sorry I've had to make you wait _this_ long. But things were just so hectic for so many months. I didn't think you'd be safe at the palace until everything was finished..."

She cradles your head against her shoulder, her palms pressing to your back and the nape of your neck to keep you close. "And now it _is_. It's all over, Izetta. I'm sorry it's taken so long."

It takes you until now to realize she's apologizing for something she has no reason to apologize for.

She's right. She had told you years ago that she wouldn't let you stay here forever. You've always known that.

It's just that over the years, you've gotten used to this style of life, and you'd begun to think it might always be this way.

You were truly foolish to think she'd forget about her promise. Everything she's done up until now has been for _your_ sake. To keep _you_ safe.

You can imagine this must've been eating away at her for just as long as it's been troubling you.

She'd never _wanted_ to send you away here. She'd _had_ to.

And now, she doesn't _have_ to bring you back to the palace. She _wants_ to.

Your voice tumbles out in whimpers of her name as you squeeze her fervently.

"Finé... F-Finé..."

She brings you as close to her as possible, until you're more or less sitting in her lap.

The two of you have been like this before, years earlier, atop a broomstick, only now your positions are reversed.

"Oh, Izetta..." she breathes against your neck. "I'm so sorry it's taken this long... long enough for you to forget what I'd promised you... long enough for you to believe I wouldn't keep it..."

"N-No..." you sniffle again. "I- _I'm_ sorry for... for forgetting... I should never have forgotten your promise to me. I should never have doubted you... Can you forgive me?"

"Izetta..." You feel a kiss at the shell of your ear, then one on your temple. "There is nothing to forgive. You've done nothing wrong."

"Then... neither have you."

As you both ease back enough, you can see her eyes again. You watch the guilt fade from her gaze just as easily as you can feel it leaving your own. Her trembling lips somehow make their way back up into a smile, as do yours.

"Izetta...?" she whispers. "Will you... will you come back with me...?"

And you've never nodded more quickly before in your life.

"Yes!" you cry. "Y-Yes, Finé! I-I want to come back with you!"

Joyfully, she pulls you back into her arms.

"Thank you... Yes, please come back with me."

"I will," you promise her. "I will."

Lotte has excused herself from the room by now, allowing you and Finé to have privacy. Once you've both found breath and composure enough to stop crying, your lips find hers for a long, much-needed welcome-home kiss.

And it's wonderful to know you won't have to kiss her goodbye quite so often anymore.

After a moment, the two of you finally part. She rests her forehead against yours as you both catch your breath, each reaching up to wipe the other's tears. She cups the side of your face with one hand, and you lean lovingly into her palm. She kisses your nose softly.

"Izetta? Before you and Lotte come back to the palace, would it be all right if I spent a few nights here with you first?"

"O-Of course! You don't need to ask! You'll always be welcome here, Finé!"

"Thank you." She dips her head. "I just wanted to be sure. Even though you'll be able to come back with me, it might take a few days to get everything arranged. I'm having people clean things up a bit and make some preparations. But I didn't think you'd mind your last few nights here if I was with you."

"Absolutely," you sigh. "So that means last night was the last one I'd have to spend alone here... That's kind of nice to know now."

"Right." She kisses the bridge of you nose. "You won't be alone anymore, Izetta. I promise."

It sounds like a bit of a strange promise. After all, she's said she'd still need to travel in the future, just not quite so often. But you know she means she won't ever truly be gone, even when she isn't here beside you.

But thankfully, she _will_ be beside you much, much more frequently from now on.

It is now you realize these will be the last few days and nights you spend in this house. Suddenly, it feels like there is so much to do. Three years' worth of living here has resulted in a lot of accomplishment on your part, and Lotte's too.

Finé must sense your tension, because she clears it away with gentle words and even gentler lips.

"We don't have to rush things," she assures you. "We'll take our time, Izetta. If you find you'd like to stay a bit longer, then stay. I'll stay with you. I'll be with you wherever you decided to go, so long as you'll have me."

"F-Finé..." You wail softly. "Y-You don't need to say the last part. I'll _always_ want to have you beside me. You know that."

You hear her chuckle, and that too, is a little strange. It sounds like she's been waiting for your confirmation on such a thing.

"You're right. I know that. Still, thank you, Izetta."

You remain there in her arms, with her in yours, until you feel you're about to fall asleep.

By now, it's early evening. The warm sunlight is slanting through the trees, dyeing the walls and furniture in soft gold. Finé murmurs for you to brace yourself, and you cling to her shoulders as she stands and lifts you up. She carries you to the bedroom, one where you've spent so many nights alone, but just as many with her over the past three years.

And now, you'll be spending one of the last with her.

She retrieves a change of clothes from her suitcase. She helps you change into your nightgown first, then slips into her own. Somehow you've managed to wear a matching set, those lavender pieces you've adorned many times together before.

Lotte comes by then to take your laundry. Finé thanks her, and pulls her into and embrace as well, thanking her for all she's done over the years.

"I really can't thank you enough, Lotte," she murmurs. "There's no one else who could've taken such good care of Izetta and stayed by her side. You've done so much for us both with so little in return."

You watch from your spot on the bed as Lotte's face scrunches up and she begins to cry.

"P-Princess... you don't need to thank me... These past three years have been some of the best of my life! I love Izetta-san, and I love you! I'll always be so thankful to serve you."

Finé doesn't let her go just yet.

"You're such a good friend, Lotte. To all of us. Bianca's told me you've helped her stay calm many times over the years when I was gone without her. Thank you so much for all you've done." She gives her another squeeze, then lets her go. "But from now on, I plan to be the one taking care of Izetta more often than not. Would you be all right with that?"

Her declaration surprises you just as much as it does Lotte. But the girl soon wipes her eyes, and presents her princess with a grand smile.

"Of course, Princess. It's been an honor being with Izetta-san all this time. But I know everything will be much more wonderful this way. You two deserve to finally be together as much as you're able to be."

Finé thanks her again. Lotte enters the room only briefly, just so she may come and pull you into a hug as well. You feel it's only right to thank her as well.

"Lotte... you've done so much for me, and for Finé... for everyone. I can't ever thank you enough. Really... Thank you for everything."

"Izetta-san..." She giggles and sniffles at the same time. "It's been my pleasure. An honor, really. It might be difficult for me not to come see you every day and help the princess out anyways!"

"I don't think any of us would mind that!"

"She's right," Finé agrees. "Of course, you're still more than welcome to help show me the ropes. I just meant that I'd be her primary caretaker when I can from now on. But if anything comes up, you'll be the first person I call for."

"Right!" Lotte pulls back, wishes you both goodnight, and respectfully takes her leave from the bedroom.

You can tell Finé is as relieved as you are. She'd never wanted to upset Lotte by relieving her, or make her think she wasn't needed any longer. It will certainly be nice to have Finé by your side from now on, but it's also nice to know you won't really be saying goodbye to Lotte either.

Once she's left you both, Finé closes the door and makes her way back to you. She flicks off the bedside lamp, allowing the silver moonlight to take precedence in lighting up the room.

You watch as she makes her way over to her side of the mattress, the pulls the covers down. She helps support you as you slide underneath, then joins you.

Even before she's laid down, you've already got your arms around her, bringing her the rest of the way down onto the mattress as you rest your weight against her. She chuckles and clings to your back, pulling the real blankets up over you as she uses you as her own. Your fingers find their way to her loose, silken hair, as you remember just how perfectly your bodies fit together.

Over the years, you've been sculpted to the curves and contours of one another's bodies, regardless of whatever position you find yourselves in. Of course, there have been nights when you've explored certain intimate activities with her on occasion, but you've found that this is by far your favorite.

Just lying with her, feeling her warmth, listening to her breathe.

She's running her fingers through your hair as well, rubbing her palms up and down your spine, over your ribs, keeping every inch of you warm and safe.

So much is different.

And yet, none of this has ever changed.

Her pulse beats with a welcome familiarity against your collar as you begin trailing light little kisses along her hair line. In return, she kisses your cheeks and temples.

Your hand finds its way to the hidden scar on her side, as it often does. She mirrors the motion, and finds the old wound on the same place on your body. You still fully believe her touch helps to heal it, just a little more each time. Which is also why you're so determined to lay your hand over hers.

That night, you share your love for one another without telling of it out loud. It's a quiet, wordless display, but one each of you can read, even with your eyes closed.

Eventually, you slip off to one side of her and turn onto your side to face her, curling into her embrace. She lulls you to sleep with the soft pull of her fingers through your hair, and the steady beat of her heart beneath your ear.

It's one of the last nights you'll be here.

But far from the last night you'll be together.

* * *

When morning comes, it brings with it a day of warmth, brightness, and promise.

You wake better-rested than you can ever recall being. There is an air of excitement about you, wafting off of you in powerful, eager waves.

You admire Finé as she sleeps for a while longer, knowing she must be exhausted from her final trip yesterday. After all, you've got more than enough to do to content yourself, even when she sleeps.

Sitting yourself up, you being to pet through her hair, smoothing it out as gently as possible, without so much as tugging on a single strand. You listen to her breathing, which still hasn't changed. She's still taking in less than she gives, and seems more than happy to do so.

A few moments pass, as you trace the outline of her body with your eyes and your fingertips. Although three long years have passed, she really hasn't changed much at all, be it physically, mentally, or otherwise.

Eventually, you decide to carefully lift her torso, bringing her head to rest on your lap rather than the pillow. You busy yourself with combing through her hair even more, moving her bangs out of her face so you may admire her expression while she sleeps.

You can't help but lean down and kiss her cheeks, her temples, her forehead. Gradually, you make your way to her lips.

After all, there is only one proper way to wake a princess.

She lets out a small murmur, one you can detect traces of your name in. As you pull away, she opens her eyes, and there's already a smile on her lips.

"Izetta..."

"Good morning, Finé."

She lifts up her arms to loosely loop her hands around the back of your head, bringing you down for another lopsided kiss.

At last, you part, and begin to sit up and stretch yourselves out. The room is bathed in milky morning light, and a warm breeze slips in through the window that's ajar.

Finé helps you into your wheelchair, then diligently makes the bed.

You've yet to mentioned to her how your legs seem to be getting their feeling back just a little more each day. You plan to keep that a secret, so that one day, if they are ever function-able again, you might surprise her.

She helps you get to the bathroom, where Lotte has already left clean clothes. Finé slips back into the same white sundress from yesterday, though now it smells fresh and like lavender. She slips you into a blouse, shawl, and skirt, then brushes your hair for you as you clean your face and teeth.

After she's done the same, you express how badly you'd like to brush her hair for her as well, and she happily agrees. She kneels down in front of you, with her back facing you, and you set to work on one of your favorite tasks of tending to her.

A short while later, just as you finish with her hair, Lotte gives a call for breakfast.

During the meal, as the three of you sit around the table with Doroteé at your ankles, you discuss the plans for today. Bianca and a few others from the palace will be coming down soon, and Lotte plans to help them begin packing and carrying things.

By the sound of it, you'll be back inside the palace by tonight.

It's a little bittersweet to think how last night was the final one you'd get to spend with Finé here. But you're already looking forward to falling asleep beside her again tonight, in _her_ room.

After breakfast, Finé declares there's a bit of time left before everything starts happening, therefore she opts to take you outside for one last walk. She puts on her sunhat and gets behind your chair to start pushing, taking you outside into the bright, colorful day. As you head down to the lake, you start to babble with how excited you are, and can't stop yourself from gabbing.

"I really can't believe it. Tonight, I'll be back to sleeping in your room again with you."

"Are you excited?"

"Yes! Absolutely! I can't wait!"

"Me neither. Though, there is one last thing I'd... like to do before we leave here."

You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's something hesitant in her voice now, something uncertain.

"What is it?" you wonder, tilting your head back.

But she looks to the side instead, out at the blue surface of the lake.

"It's... well..."

You can tell right away now that she's troubled. This is the kind of voice she uses when she's got too much on her mind and in her heart to handle all at once.

So you decide to alleviate the burden as much as you can. Reaching up and back, your hand manages to find hers on the handle bar.

"Finé. Come with me."

Surprised, she looks down at you again, and you return her gaze with a warm smile.

"There's something I still want to show you."

From there, you give her directions on where to push your chair. You guide her gradually away from the lake, and into the little forests. There's a bit of a path here as well, one only Lotte has ever pushed you along before. You encourage Finé to keep going, until you can see the change of lighting up ahead.

"There," you tell her. "There's a little clearing."

She nods and continues taking you there.

Your heart starts to pound in anticipation. You clutch your hands together in your lap and squeeze them to stop from fidgeting.

Finally, she brings you into a place that's so very familiar to you, one you know she's never seen before.

The trees give way to a small clearing, just as you've indicated. The sunlight that's choppy and dappled elsewhere in the forest floods down unobstructed here. It glows golden in the air and against the trunks, highlighting little particles of dust that rise up like long-lost magics.

The leaves are vibrant and green here, but it's what's on the ground that is most dazzling.

Flowers.

Hundreds of them.

All different kinds and different colors.

They decorate every inch where the sunlight touches, with their petals open fully, reaching out toward the blue sky above.

You feel yourself come to an abrupt halt, and hear a small, bewildered gasp come from behind you.

You wait in silence and anticipation as she takes it all in, admiring every colored petal, every breath of scented air, every speck of light.

Slowly, she pushes you forward once again, step by step, until you're amongst the flowers. By the sounds of it, she's still in absolute wonder, gazing up at the trees and sky above, then down at the lively buds below.

It takes her a long while to find her voice, which is one of many indications of how much she's enjoying this.

"Izetta... did you... make this...?"

"Yes. Every time Lotte and I went to the market, we'd buy seeds. We'd found this spot on one of our very first walks together, and decided it was perfect for a garden. She helped me with the organization and things like that, but for the most part, I wanted to make this place myself."

"Izetta... it's absolutely wonderful. It's beautiful..." Again, she tapers off in favor of admiring the place. "How... did you keep it alive for so long?"

Here, you shrug a little.

"I couldn't always. I've watched it die a few times in the winter. It was always sad... but then in the spring, many of the flowers came back on their own! It was really incredible and empowering to see. So every year I'd replant what couldn't come back on its own."

"Why did you continue replanting it for so many years?"

"Because... it was a present. For you, Finé."

She stops, and both of you find yourselves right in the center of the garden.

"For... for _me?_ " she blurts out.

"Yes. I never knew when would be a good time to show it to you. I wanted to make sure it was in full bloom at the time. Over the years, there were a few times when I wanted to bring you here, but it just never _felt_ right. So I kept replanting the flowers as many times as I needed to. Until now."

By this point, she's moved a few steps away, and you can see her clearly. "I'm glad I waited. Today was definitely the right day to show you. I... hope you like it, Finé."

"Like it? Izetta... I _love_ it!"

She gives a twirl, and her white sundress and hat flutter from the motion. The petals sway at her ankles as a breeze pushes through them, causing them to dance.

Seeing her bathed in a swathe of sunlight like this, dressed in white that's now highlighted with gold, you can't help but think she looks like a nymph, a fairy. Which could be appropriate, since you yourself were once a witch.

You watch as she opens her arms wide and spins around, her merry laughter filling the air of this secret place. She never steps on a single flower, only on the grass in between them. Your heart lifts higher and higher by the second as you watch her, and tears rise up to your eyes.

Finally, after all this time, all this work, you've shown it to her.

You'd wanted to give her a gift unlike any she'd ever received before, one she'd never expect, and it's clear now that you've done just that.

She enjoys herself for a time, admiring every flower, leaning down to touch a few of them and smell others. The air here is pleasant to just about every sense; wonderful scents, sights, colors, and birdsong.

You're just happy to watch her. Now that she's been the leader of her country for so long, it's wonderful to see her throw her inhibitions to the wind for a moment, and once again be drawn into that fleeting childlike innocence that is so hard to relive these days. No matter how many years of your life you may have lost due to using so much magic in the past, you're certain that seeing her like this adds twice as many back.

At last, she makes her way back to you. There's a new brightness in her eyes, along with something else. Any trace of hesitance or uncertainty, like those you'd heard in her voice earlier, are now nowhere to be found.

"Thank you, Izetta. This is the most wonderful gift anyone has ever given me. But..." She smiles, and looks down to hide her expression. "I wonder if... if you could give me... just one more thing. The last I'll ever ask from you."

Your heart freezes for a second, and your back goes tense.

"O-Of course, Finé! W-Whatever it is, please name it! I-I'll do my best!"

"I know you will," she chuckles. "I know you will."

She makes her way closer, one more step, until she's standing right in front of you. You crane your neck up to watch her, curious, attentive, patient.

A bit of the hesitance comes back for a moment as she struggles to find the strength to look up into your eyes. But she pulls through eventually, draws in a deep, steady breath, and resolves herself.

"Izetta... we've been through _so_ much together. More than anyone else in the world, quite possibly. From the very first day I met you, I was drawn to you. And it wasn't just because of your magics.

Yes, I've always loved that you were a witch, that you were so special and gifted. But there was _so much more_ that I loved about you, too. You were always so kind, so hardworking, so righteous. I was never prouder than the times when you stood beside me, and fought for my country. I put you through so much..."

Here, you can see her eyes glaze over a bit, and her lips begin to tremble. Wordlessly, you wheel yourself forward and inch, then lean close to reach for her hand. She perks up at your touch, wipes her eyes, then continues.

"We've been through a lot together. So much heartbreak, so many hardships. Some might say we've been through more than our fair share of those things. You've been hurt, and you've made so many sacrifices. You've given me so much already. I almost feel greedy for... asking one more thing of you. But I assure you it will be the last. Because you've already given me everything else, Izetta."

"Finé..."

Your chest is suddenly tight, and you're finding it difficult to breathe. You don't know what she's talking about, but it sounds so... final. It scares you.

She must realize as much, because her eyes soften in contrast to the steadying grip she puts on your hand.

"But for all those hardships we've endured together over the years, there have been so many more wonderful times. I'll never forget how you woke on that plane, and saved me. That first time we met, and our hands touched after so many years...

"I'll never forget all of the times you fought and won for me. The times we danced together, the times we laughed... Even the normal days were wonderful when I spent them with you. We'd sneak out in disguise to visit the town, eat pie together, talk to the citizens as though we were normal village girls. Those days are just as precious to me as the victories we've shared, and the promises we've made.

"I'll never forget... that first and last time you took me for a flight, those wonderful, magical nights... I'll never forget coming here to see you all these years, and you coming to see me. I'll never forget... just how much you _love_ me, Izetta. And I... I want to make sure you never forget how much _I_ love you."

"I... I already know that... Finé..." you whimper. You can feel the tears struggling to force their way out, but you fight them back. You want to see her clearly, and hear her request. "S-So what is it... that I can still do for you? Please... anything..."

She squeezes your hand again and threads your fingers together.

"Only if you think you can. I'll be asking a lot of you, Izetta. More than ever before..."

With that, she guides your hand back into your lap and releases it.

You're quite literally on the edge of your seat by now, desperately fighting to keep the tears at bay so you might hear out her final request.

She reaches up and removes the white sunhat, revealing her angelic face. You hadn't noticed until now, but there are already tears streaming down her cheeks, glinting in the light.

Before you can speak so much as another word, in a flutter of white fabric, she drops down to one knee.

Time all but stops.

Suddenly, you're aware of every beat of your heart, hard and powerful, and you know hers must be doing the same. You watch as she puts the hat aside and slips her hand into her dress pocket.

Your mind and your heart feel empty and full at the same time.

You want to tell her to stand up, that she'll dirty her pretty dress like this. A princess should never have to touch the ground; that's something you've always believed in.

But right now... she doesn't seem to mind at all.

"Izetta..."

Your name always has meaning on her lips.

"Eylstadt's former White Witch..."

You draw in a tight breath-

"And forever savior..."

-and let it out.

"My very best and closest friend..."

Your eyes follow her hand.

"And the love of my life..."

She pulls out a small, velvety box, and opens it.

"Would you... do me the utmost honor..."

Something sparkles more brightly than the surface of the lake, and almost as beautifully as her eyes.

"Of granting my final request to you..."

She presents the ring to you, unmistakable.

"And become my wife?"

Time stops along with your heart.

You can't remember how to speak.

You can't remember how to move.

All you can remember is how to cry.

You crumple before her, hiding your face in your hands, sobbing harder than you ever have before. But it's never been for a better reason.

It's... indescribable. This feeling. This overwhelming feeling of love.

All those years of waiting, hoping, wishing...

All those sacrifices, all those victories...

All the pain and the sorrow.

You've both got the scars to show for them.

But then there's the comfort and the reassurance, the love and the warmth...

Everything – years' and years' worth of life itself – all comes together in a single moment.

 _Here_.

And now.

She's waiting for you.

So you lift your face, more proudly than ever before. Tears are spilling in rivulets down your cheeks and neck, seeping into your lap. She's trembling just as much, though she's doing her utmost best not to cry or make a sound until she's heard your answer.

She waits.

And you know it must be agony for her, suspended in this moment.

It's rude to keep a princess waiting.

And she's waited long enough.

You both have.

Finally... you find your voice-

"Yes..."

-and give it to her.

" _Yes_..."

You grant her her final request-

"Yes... _Finé!_ "

-and the rest of your life.

She doesn't have to wait a second longer. She lifts herself up onto her knees and throws her arms around you, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably into your shoulder.

" _Izetta_...!"

" _Finé_...!"

You've cried so much over the years. So much. You never thought you'd be able to cry this much ever again.

But the tears are unstoppable now. You've both got no choice other than to let them fall.

You cling to her, pulling her up as close as you possibly can, but even then, it doesn't feel close enough. Eventually, you push out of the wheelchair, and with her support, ease yourself down into the flowers.

 _Here_ , in the dirt, where a princess and her fiancée should never be.

 _Here_ is where you've never felt _more_ like you belong.

She keeps you close - closer than anyone else has ever been, or ever will be.

And you know you'll never let anyone else take that place. It is _yours_ , and you'll never relinquish it. Not for as long as you may live, or for any amount of time afterward.

This is your place. Your purpose.

To be at her side, now and forever.

To be her support, her confidence, her strength.

And to be her comfort, her haven, her shoulder to cry on.

You know she plans to be all of those things for you as well.

And there's no one else you'd rather have.

You lose track of time. It doesn't matter here. You simply sob in her arms, as she weeps in yours.

There is no time. Only air, sunlight, flowers...

Only her heartbeat against yours.

Only her arms around you.

Only joy, warmth, happiness...

And love.

You cry with her, until the soil is saturated enough to give life to new flowers, flowers born of the proof of your love.

Eventually, you both manage to loosen your hold on one another, until you can ease back enough to let ruby and lilac meet once again.

And just seeing each other's eyes, filled with such unbridled, unhindered affection, and a lifetime's worth of magic and love...

You can't help but break down all over again.

There's only one thing you can bring yourself to say. Your only prayer, your only miracle.

"Finé... Finé...!"

And she returns it with hers.

"Izetta..."

Once again, the sounds of your tearful mirth fill the air for a while. But it soon becomes clear there is more she longs to say, so you are sure to listen.

"We'll go back..." she whispers. "Not to _my_ palace... but to _ours_. Tonight, we'll sleep beside each other... not in _my_ bedroom... but in _ours_. Tomorrow... we'll tell the world you've returned, that we're to be wed in the summer... and that we plan to lead Eylstadt... not _my_ country... but to _ours_. Together. For the rest of _our_ lives..."

With each word she says, you give another nod of affirmation.

"Y-Yes! Finé... Finé! M- _My_ Finé..."

She keeps her hold on you, firm and strong.

"Izetta... _my_ White Witch... _my_ best friend... _my_ bride-to-be..."

You half-sob, half-squeak. Her saying it again makes it all the more real.

"Finé..." You sit back again, wanting to look into her eyes this time when you say it. "My... _my_..."

"Go ahead," she chuckles. "Please say it."

You choke back another sob, wipe more of the tears away, then try out the new word.

" _My_... _wife_..."

"Oh...!"

This time, it is she who breaks down first, just a second before you do. She pulls you in, laughing and crying into your neck.

"Oh, Izetta..."

Her heart beats fervently in time with yours, a lively, excited rhythm you'll never forget, or have to live without.

This moment paints itself into your heart, into your very soul.

All these years...

All of these emotions...

The fear, the confusion, the anxiety...

The surprise, the humility, the tranquility...

The merriment, the elation, the love...

She's given you so many things.

Only when her shaking hands manage to find yours does she give you one last one.

She kisses the back of your left hand, then carefully slips the ring into place.

It fits almost as perfectly on your finger as you do in her arms.

You've got to bring your hands to your face again, to sob into your palms and attempt to wipe your tears. But when you next look to her, you find she's holding out her upturned palm, where a second, matching ring rests. With a gasp, you realize what you must do.

Your hand is shaking so much you miss taking it the first time, but she waits, patiently and expectantly. You manage to pick it up, handling it with great care, and then find her left hand as well.

You take in a deep breath, and steady your fingers as much as possible. Mirroring her actions, you slide the ring onto her finger.

This time, it is her turn to squeal.

You sob once again, and throw your arms around her, and she's ready to catch you.

Now, with this, she's given you everything. And you've given her just as much.

You've given each other your past, present, and future selves, and all that comes with them.

It feels like many chapters of your life have just come to an end.

But a brand new story has just begun.

There is so much more to come.

You can hardly wait.

But for now, you let this precious moment last for as long as it can. You'll treasure it, always, just as fondly as you'll treasure her.

The next time you pull apart, it's only for long enough to gaze lovingly into each other's eyes.

She is no longer just your princess. She is now your fiancée.

And one day, come summer, she will be your wife.

And you will be hers.

"Finé..."

"Izetta..."

Your names are spoken separately, but what comes next is in unison.

 _"I love you."_

You seal it with a kiss, one that follows many, and precedes many more.

It is a fact you've always known, a vow you've always understood, and a promise you'll always keep.

It lights a fire in your hearts, one that's always been there, but now shines more brightly than ever.

It reminds you that summer is on its way, but you'll never forget the spring, nor any other season you've spent with her.

There are so many things to remember, and so many memories yet to make.

And you can't wait to spend _every_ second with her, for the rest of your lives.

The final chapter ends.

But a new story begins.

It will continue on through many more seasons.

And it starts now.

* * *

 **[The End]**

 **A/N: Ahh wow I can't believe it's finally over! When I first started watching Shuumatsu no Izetta, I only intended to write a few fics. I never thought it would become this! But it was so enjoyable to write and experience! I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I have!**

 **Thank you for reading until the end!**

 **Please review!**


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